


Until I Can't Breathe

by ShioriAzuma



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Not So Straight Jimmy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShioriAzuma/pseuds/ShioriAzuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Held at gun point by a visiting nobleman, Thomas and Jimmy are forced to go beyond their friendship. As they deal with the fall out, they must look again at what was and what could be. </p><p>(Summary may change slightly at a later date).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trust Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have published since 2011 and the first within this fandom. Constructive criticism appreciated. Thank you for looking beyond the sucky summary and giving this fic a chance!

Thomas Barrow was the bane of his life. Jimmy was finally about to get ready for bed and the idiot had sent a hall boy up to summon him to the visiting Lord Tarnworth's bedroom of all places. Why him? Why _now?_ It had already been a long and tedious day, both Mr Carson and Thomas doing everything in their power to make sure Jimmy was not off his feet for more than five minutes. And now Thomas was summoning him again! If he didn't know better, Jimmy would have said the man loathed him. 

Straightening his jacket, he knocked, entering on the command of his lordship. The room was dark, Jimmy could barely see a thing. Lord Tarnworth spoke again, his deep voice creeping across the open space. 

"Close the door, footman. Then take three paces forward." 

Feeling uneasy, Jimmy followed the commands. What was Lord Tarnworth playing at? And where was Thomas? Was that his silhouette, by what he assumed was a desk? 

"Good. Now, Mr Barrow, turn that lamp on." He sounded amused which did nothing for Jimmy's increasing nerves. Why were they here? Jimmy blinked as the desk lamp came on, illuminating the room in a golden glow. He first spotted Lord Tarnworth, still in his dinner suit and standing rather smugly by the foot of his bed, facing the door, with his hands behind his back. His slicked brown hair had remained as impeccable as the suit and his dark eyes looked almost like black pits in the low light. To Jimmy's right stood Thomas, looking as pale as the footman had ever seen him. He'd go as far as to say the man was shaking if he didn't believe Thomas to be unflappable around his superiors. Remembering himself, Jimmy returned his attention to his lordship. 

"How may I be of assistance, my Lord?" He bowed slightly, catching the smirk growing on Lord Tarnworth's mouth. 

"I found the entertainment... _lacking_ tonight so I thought I would take it upon myself to create my own fun. Being a guest, I am confident Lord Grantham would not mind a bit. What is your name?" 

"James, my Lord." 

"Well, James and Mr Barrow, be good lads and stand in that big open space in front of me." 

Jimmy glanced up at Thomas, his nerves increasing now he was close enough to see the light sheen of sweat on the other's face. He made a small step to the left as Thomas crossed from the desk to a few feet to Jimmy's right. 

"Excellent. Now-" His lordship whipped his right arm out from behind his back and Jimmy couldn't hold the gasp back, his eyes widening. For Lord Tarnworth had a gleaming silver revolver pointed straight at Jimmy's face. 

"With this barrel pointed at dear Mr Barrow's head, and a knife pressed to his back, I ordered him to summon a footman." Lord Tarnworth chuckled, presumably at his own genius "To my joy, there was only you available, your tall peer having retired early with a headache. And so you were summoned. As you are likely aware, there is not much in the way of _erotic_ entertainment this deep in Yorkshire." 

Erotic? Jimmy could feel himself sweating now. Surely Lord Tarnworth couldn't be suggesting anything _illegal_... 

"So, as I said, I have elected to make my own fun. Mr Barrow, lock the door and give me the key." 

Jimmy watched in increasing horror as Thomas obeyed, turning the key already in the lock and passing it over to his lordship before resuming his place beside Jimmy. 

Again, the smirk spread across the man's smug face. "You cannot leave. Attempt to and I shall shoot you. I specifically requested a room on the other side of this grand house so that nothing can be heard. Nevertheless, shout for help and I _will_ shoot you. I have organised an exhibition of two fit men and an exhibition I shall see. Face each other." 

This was not happening. What was being implied... A _lord_ could not want this! Still, he turned to face Thomas but could not bring himself to look the other in the eye. 

"James, remove your clothing." 

He saw red, ever so briefly. "I will not!" Jimmy snapped, balling up his fists. He jolted in fright at the sound of the revolver's hammer being pulled back and the dark chuckle that accompanied it. Even without the threat of the gun, Jimmy was sure Lord Tarnworth could overpower him, the man being a head taller than Thomas and surprisingly muscular for an aristocrat. There was no getting away from this. 

"You will. Start with the shoes." 

Jimmy grimaced and knelt down, applying trembling fingers to his shoelaces. Undone, he rose and toed them off along with his socks, following his lordship's command to throw everything in the corner behind him. As his bare feet touched the carpet, Jimmy felt the beginnings of panic set in. 

With a deep breath, Jimmy began to make work of his upper livery, sliding off the jacket, pulling away the bowtie and slipping off the waistcoat. This was really happening... _Why?_ He unbuttoned his shirt next, yanking it from his trousers after pulling his arms out of the braces. As he threw the shirt behind him, Jimmy caught sight of the pleased grin on Lord Tarnworth's face. 

Jimmy wanted to punch him. 

His undershirt done away with, there was nothing left but the worst part. Defeated, Jimmy unbuttoned his trousers. They slid down his legs easily – the traitorous things – and he kicked them over to the pile. He paused, evidently for too long. 

"Come on, while the night is young," Lord Tarnworth snapped, gesturing impatiently with his free hand at Jimmy's final defence. Jimmy slid his thumbs under the waistband and pulled the underwear away, tossing them onto the pile 

He felt himself blushing at the obvious way Lord Tarnworth was ogling him. Not even a woman had ever looked at his body with such obvious intent. He felt like a slab of meat, particularly being the only man nude in the room. Jimmy looked up at Thomas, certain he would be enjoying this just as much as his lordship. Surprisingly, Jimmy saw that the older man had his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. 

"Mr Barrow!" His Lordship exclaimed. "Take your fill of the gift you have been given and look at him." 

\---

Slowly, Thomas looked up, feeling the blush build in his cheeks. As he had always suspected, Jimmy was a perfect model of masculine beauty. Golden skin, incredibly unmarred for one of their generation, covered lithe muscles and a flat stomach. A dusting of blond hair led from the navel to his groin, a substantial member nestling in slightly thicker curls. Unable to stop, he imagined the firm buttocks beyond his line of sight. Up again, he paused on the chest and the two pink nipples before continuing up to meet Jimmy's wide eyes. Jimmy was afraid – they both were. He had to tell Jimmy he didn't want this. _Had_ to make it clear. 

"Good. Isn't he beautiful? Now, touch him. Pull him against you." 

Releasing his breath, Thomas slowly raised his hands to rest on Jimmy's bare shoulders. Quickly, he spun Jimmy round and pulled the shorter man against his chest, easily steadying the other as he stumbled back. Thomas heard a small gasp as Jimmy's back made contact with the likely chilly buttons of his suit. 

The move seemed to have pleased Lord Tarnworth and Thomas knew, if he could _keep_ him happy, he and Jimmy might just walk out of here. The position also gave him the advantage of being able to whisper in Jimmy's ear. 

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," he muttered, gradually running his hands down Jimmy's arms at a gesture from Lord Tarnworth to continue. "I need you to know that I never wanted you like this, I swear. I'm not in league with this _madman._ But, if you follow my lead, we might just make it out of here alive. I won't hurt you. Do you trust me?" 

As he glided his hands from Jimmy's wrists to his stomach, Thomas saw the minute nod. Tracing small patterns, Thomas continued upwards to the pink nipples, rolling them until they were pert. He left his right hand to continue while the other went over the shoulder and down the smooth back, pushing Jimmy forward slightly to make room. He stroked the backside, which was as firm as expected, resting his hand on the curve. 

Lord Tarnworth hummed his pleasure. "James, turn and kiss your under-butler. Put your hands on his neck, there's a good boy." 

Thomas swallowed heavily as his fingers skimmed over Jimmy's skin during the turn, barely moving his left hand away in time before it would have glanced the other's groin. Jimmy's eyes briefly met his as he looped his arms around Thomas' neck, tilting his head up to meet the other's lips. 

\---

Jimmy closed his eyes as their lips met, instinctively pressing against Thomas' clothed body. He frowned at the odd sensation of slight stubble scratching his upper lip. It increased as Thomas leant into the kiss, and a shiver ran through him as he felt arms loop around his waist. Jimmy could almost say he was becoming lost in it, forgetting the ludicrous situation he was in. That was until Lord Tarnworth spoke again. 

"Yes, I do enjoy seeing a subordinate service his superior. On your knees, James. I want to see your mouth around his cock." 

Jimmy jerked away from Thomas, looking in horror at his lordship. "I-I can't put _that_ in _there!_ " He gasped, glancing at the weapon still aimed at his head. He swallowed uneasily at Lord Tarnworth's frown. 

"You can and you will." 

His voice was so calm and steady... What kind of man could act like that, pointing a gun to a stranger's head? It wasn't human. But he didn't want to die... 

Jimmy turned back to face Thomas and fell to his knees, raising seemingly constantly shaking hands to unbutton the suit jacket. He methodically unbuttoned the braces, the fly and began to push both the trousers and underwear down Thomas' legs. Still, he wasn't prepared to come face to face with Thomas' barely erect penis. Who was he kidding? He couldn't do this! Jimmy could feel his breaths coming short and quick – panic was building. Then Thomas was kneeling before him, hands on Jimmy's cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet. 

"Breathe. I'm sorry you have to do this, truly. If I could get us out of here I would. What _can_ I do to help you, Jimmy?" 

Ridiculously, staring into equally scared eyes, Jimmy knew exactly what would help. He leaned forward to kiss Thomas and, just like before, his surroundings slipped away. Funny how he hadn't felt like this when he was accosted in his sleep. Thomas pulled away, lightly chuckling as Jimmy leant forward to follow him. 

"Just take it slowly. I've done this before." He gave Jimmy a quick kiss and rose to his feet. 

Okay... Perhaps he could use his hand at first, like on himself? He lifted his hands, placing the left on Thomas' hip and the right around the shaft. Jimmy moved his fist up and down, watching as it grew increasingly erect. He knew what it should feel like for Thomas – he just had to make it happen. 

Christ! He was honestly about to put another man's cock in his mouth! 

Leaving his hand wrapped at the base, Jimmy leant forward and licked a line up the underside of the shaft. He repeated the motion, lingering on the head as he felt a shiver run through Thomas. Remembering a trick a girl almost a year ago had used on him, he swirled his tongue around the tip several times, jumping slightly as he felt one of Thomas' hands fall to rest in his hair, carding through it. Jimmy settled his lips on the head and began his descent down, not taking too much in lest he gagged. 

This was so...odd. The dual sensation of filling his mouth and, unlike a woman, knowing the effect his actions would have on Thomas. To be fair, though somewhat distasteful, he could hardly call the act disgusting and expect a woman to do it to him. Nevertheless, he was a tad worried about the end result. 

With the cock undeniably stiff in his mouth and the sound of Thomas' increasingly louder breathing, Jimmy knew his hard labour was about to pay off, whether he was ready or not. 

"Oh God..." Thomas came, tightening his grip reflexively in Jimmy's hair. 

Feeling ludicrously proud of himself, Jimmy managed to swallow most of the fluid, grimacing at the taste, only letting a little escape down his chin. He'd tasted his own cum on a girl's lips before but it was another matter entirely to have practically the full load in his mouth. Thomas' flaccid cock slipped out of his mouth, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting it to Jimmy's lips. He felt the hand slip from his head as he turned his face from Thomas, instead making eye contact with Lord Tarnworth and the ever present loaded revolver. He also could not fail to notice the prominent erection pressing against the man's tailored trousers. 

"Excellent show! Oh don't worry James," Lord Tarnworth grinned, patting his erection with his free hand. "I would not dream of having someone of your status touch my person. No, you are for Mr Barrow alone." 

Was that supposed to comfort him? Jimmy felt his cheeks burn again, the shame of his situation coming to the forefront. He didn't _want_ anyone else's cock anywhere near him! Christ, he didn't even want Thomas' near him but, given a choice between the other male servants, at least Thomas had Jimmy's best interest in mind for the most part. He didn't even want to imagine what the situation would have been like with Alfred in place of Thomas. Although, to be fair, Alfred would likely have had them both shot within minutes at the mere suggestion of depravity. Jimmy refused to even entertain the thought of being like this with the other male servants. No, God help him, but Thomas Barrow was the best case scenario. He just hoped the under-butler wouldn't get any ideas about them from all this. 

"James, be a lamb and undress Mr Barrow." 

Another order. At least this would mean Jimmy would no longer be the only one left naked. Seeing as he was already kneeling, Jimmy turned to undo Thomas' shoe laces, loosening both shoes and pulling them off along with the socks. He placed them beside his own pile of clothes and stood. Thomas was being very still, on his best behaviour for his lordship. It was a miracle neither of them had said something stupid yet. 

Jimmy briefly looked into Thomas eyes as he moved behind him and slid the jacket from his shoulders, adding it to the pile, swiftly followed by the waistcoat and the already unbuttoned braces. While he loosened the knot on Thomas' tie, the older man lifted his right arm and used his sleeve to wipe away the remnants of the cum still on Jimmy's chin which, truth be told, he had already forgotten about. As he tossed the tie aside, Jimmy felt a small smile form at the care Thomas was still trying to show him. 

The shirt, whose buttons were far more fiddly than his own, came next. Still, Jimmy managed it, once again stepping behind to slide it from the shoulders. Three items to go, then Thomas would be as equal to Jimmy as he could be in such a situation. The anticipation... He was starting to understand what his lordship seemed to be getting out of this undressing 'ritual'. When he gripped the bottom of the undershirt, Jimmy couldn't help but slide the palms of his hands up Thomas' body during its removal. Ostensibly, this was for Lord Tarnworth's approval but Jimmy was undeniably curious about what was under the layer, having never seen Thomas wearing less on his upper body. 

The under-butler was certainly more stocky than Jimmy although by no means _fat._ It was all solid definition, mainly in the chest and shoulders which, in Jimmy's opinion, was a miracle as the man tended to delegate all heavy lifting to the two footmen. Thankfully, considering Thomas' darker colouring, the man's chest was not overly hairy. A light smattering adorned the chest, a thicker trail leading down to Thomas' already exposed cock. For some reason, Jimmy had held a comical image of the man being as hairy as an ape and was glad to see that this was far from the case. Thomas obediently raised his arms and allowed the undershirt to be pulled over his head and deposited on the pile rivalling Jimmy's own. Finally, Jimmy placed his hands on the sagging waistband of the trousers and underwear, pushing them both down. Thomas stepped out of them and handed the final items to Jimmy to toss aside. 

Jimmy had been sure having another person suffer forced nudity would make him more relaxed but, if anything, things seemed more intense. The way Thomas was looking at him...and _he_ at _Thomas._ He hastily backed away as Thomas slowly approached him, eyes widening slightly as his back hit the wall. Thomas paused a few inches from him, briefly glancing at the gun toting menace leaning against the bed. 

"Jimmy, may I touch you? May I kiss you?" 

Jimmy swallowed heavily and nodded. He didn't want to _obviously_ but he couldn't deny Thomas was an exceptional kisser for a man. He gasped as Thomas pressed flush against him, feeling like a ridiculously inexperienced boy as he noticeably reacted to the solid body. 

Thomas leant down and captured Jimmy's lips, leisurely teasing his tongue along Jimmy's. He pressed his hands to Jimmy's hips, massaging circles with his thumbs. Without even thinking, Jimmy threaded both hands into the other's hair and tried to press even closer, needing more. He felt impossibly, ridiculously, _dangerously_ good. So good he was almost starting to regret having reported Thomas when he had been accosted in his sleep. Fuck... 

He jerked away from Thomas' demanding mouth as he felt two hands mould to his backside. "Too real," he panted, moaning quietly as Thomas attached himself to Jimmy's neck. 

"Sorry," Thomas muttered, but Jimmy could tell he wasn't as there were still two hands firmly grasping his arse. Jimmy would have kissed him again if Lord fucking Tarnworth hadn't have opened his mouth. Still, maybe it was a good thing – the loathsome voice kept breaking him out of the ridiculous and _illegal_ fantasy he was falling into. Thomas didn't move as Lord Tarnworth spoke, instead resting his forehead on Jimmy's shoulder. 

"Do what you will to young James, Mr Barrow. I feel confident in your knowledge of the male form. Seems I have hit quite the gold mine. James, lie down and rest on your elbows – I want to appreciate the length of your body." 

He felt like an object...some doll made for the pleasure of this aristocratic twat. Did someone of Jimmy's class even register as human? Did he even _care_ that Jimmy was absolutely terrified right now? 

Now he was entirely at Thomas' mercy. Before this nightmare was over one of them was going to be fucked and Jimmy had a strong suspicion it would be him. To be so intimate...to submit far more than had already been asked of him... He didn't want this, being ordered and watched like some prostitute. But to be with Thomas and commit what he had always been told was an unnatural act? By _God_ he wanted it. He was so confused...but it was undeniable. 

He lightly pushed Thomas away from him and took the few steps to the open space before Lord Tarnworth where he had started. At his lordship's gesture, Jimmy turned to the side and fell to his knees, rocking back until he was laid out before the two men. Resting on his elbows and fighting back a blush, he looked at Thomas, currently leaning unselfconsciously against the wall, and gave him a shaky smile. 

Matching it, Thomas practically sauntered over and settled himself between Jimmy's parted thighs. The under-butler leant down and kissed Jimmy again, pushing his head to the floor. Jimmy's arms were easily pinned above his head in Thomas' right hand while his mouth was, for lack of a better word, ravished. 

Unexpectedly, Jimmy broke the kiss with a loud groan as Thomas ground his hips down, rubbing their erections together. He could barely believe he was prepared to get off on these activities. 

_Only Thomas._

He wriggled out of Thomas' grasp and pushed himself back onto his elbows, watching in nervous anticipation as the other shuffled back, trailing kisses down Jimmy's front. It seemed Thomas was about to return the earlier 'favour.' 

Jimmy felt his eyes roll back, shivering, as a pair of confident lips wrapped around his cock. He felt even more turned on looking down at Thomas' body stretched out between his legs, his head rising and falling in a leisurely rhythm around the length. Thomas clutched at Jimmy's left thigh, digging his fingernails in as he took the erection deeper. He cried out again when Thomas swallowed around his cock, having taken him in impossibly deep. Only a few times in his life had he been swallowed to the root. 

Unlike with Jimmy's earlier attempt, Thomas lightly rolled Jimmy's balls in his palm. It had only been a few minutes and he already felt himself coming close to the edge. In his defence, it had been a long time and Thomas was _exceptionally_ good at swallowing cock. 

"Thomas...," he groaned. The man in question glanced up, practically smirking around Jimmy's length. Unable to hold back, Jimmy's head hit the floor, his fists clenching as he came in Thomas' mouth, the under-butler's name on his lips. 

_Damn._

In his hazy state, Jimmy barely registered the two hands planted by his shoulders, strong arms pulling Thomas up his body. For a moment the man was smothering Jimmy's body and he couldn't quite bring himself to complain. 

\---

Thomas moved to rest on his elbows to take some of his weight off of Jimmy. He could hardly believe he was lying between Jimmy's legs, the man's cum coating his throat. He was determined to make their situation as pleasurable for the other as possible – it was the least he could do as he hadn't been brave enough to tell Lord Tarnworth to go to hell in the first place. He certainly didn't want Jimmy to hate him after all this was over. 

But Jimmy was kissing him back, touching him when he didn't have to. He looked down at the footman and felt a smile spreading as Jimmy came back from his climax. Thomas blinked in surprise as he felt a hand on the back of his head and legs wrap loosely around his waist. 

"Kiss me," Jimmy whispered. 

Thomas was more than happy to comply, melding his mouth to the other's. They moved slowly, tongues languidly teasing. He could practically feel the blood racing to his dick at the feel of Jimmy's limbs wound around his body and the little noises that were almost swallowed by the kiss. Shifting to press his lips to Jimmy's neck, Thomas rolled his hips down, grinning as he felt the other shiver against him. 

"I want to worship your body," Thomas whispered. "I want to give you everything I can. I want to be _in_ you." 

" _Yes_ ," Jimmy moaned, pressing even closer. "I don't care anymore...just _fuck me_ , Thomas." 

"It will be my pleasure, and I will make it yours." He gave Jimmy a quick kiss then knelt up and ran his hands along Jimmy's thighs as the legs slipped from his waist. Reluctantly, he looked towards Lord Tarnworth, now seated on the foot of the bed with the revolver still aimed at them. 

"My Lord, do you have lubrication we may use?" 

Lord Tarnworth smirked and reached into his jacket pocket. "Only because of the excellent performance so far." 

A small jar of oil was rolled towards them. Well thank heavens they had pleased his lordship adequately enough to receive such a courtesy! Were they supposed to be grateful? Thomas picked up the jar and unscrewed the lid, not entirely sure of what it was but it looked like it would do the job. He liberally coated the fingers of his right hand in the thick liquid before placing the remainder aside for later. Jimmy was watching him, wide eyes locked on the glistening fingers. 

"This is really happening," Jimmy whispered. 

"This part might be easier on your knees." 

It was a sight to behold, watching the footman turn onto his knees and rest his upper body on his elbows. Thomas ran his unoiled hand along Jimmy's spine and felt a slight tremor. He couldn't imagine what Jimmy's thought process was right now. Forced into doing something legally and morally wrong, discovering the acts so far weren't that bad but unable to truly enjoy it thanks to a gun-toting voyeur. 

Thomas desperately wished it could be different. He'd rather not have Jimmy at all than under such false consent, yet this was their fate. 

He pushed Jimmy's legs further apart with his knees and began to circle the puckered entrance with his slick forefinger. 

"I need you to relax. Breathe slowly, try not to tense up." Once Jimmy's breathing slowed, Thomas slid the finger in, rubbing the other's hip with his free hand as he instinctively clenched up. As the pressure left he carefully pressed it in completely, frowning slightly at the breathless whine that followed. 

"Are you alright, Jimmy? I'm trying not to hurt you." 

"I'm fine, it just feels _odd_ ," he mumbled. "Can you...move it?" 

Thomas swallowed a laugh and did just that, taking great pleasure in watching part of him go in and out of the man that had fascinated him for so long. As the motions became easier, he began to add a second finger, again offering comforting touches as Jimmy trembled under the new pressure. He wrapped his free hand around Jimmy's dick and was surprised to find it slightly hard. Pumping the growing arousal in time with his other hand, he couldn't help but smirk in approval at the gasps that came from Jimmy. 

After a distinctly loud moan, Thomas knew he had _finally_ found the other man's prostate. He continued to tease the sensitive spot, adding a third finger, as he brought Jimmy closer to the edge. His own erection was practically throbbing just from the scandalous noises coming from the other. Given how loud the footman was on his own, Thomas imagined Lord Tarnworth was counting his lucky stars that there were no occupied rooms nearby. The man was certainly no fool. As he felt pre-cum slicking his left hand, he removed both and reached for the pot of oil again. 

"What...? Why did you stop?" Jimmy turned his gaze on Thomas, practically accusatory. It would have been comical anywhere else. 

"Can't wait anymore and I think you're ready. Turn back over? I need to kiss you." 

\---

As he returned to his back and propped himself up on his hands, Jimmy's eyes widened at the sight of Thomas slicking up his erection. It seemed much bigger when about to go in his arse than it had going in his mouth. His own erection was begging for attention and Jimmy was on the brink of laying a hand on himself when Thomas once again settled in between his legs and pressed their lips together. 

He allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, so distracted by the kiss that he barely noticed Thomas drape one of Jimmy's legs over his shoulder. He felt further movements then the undeniable pressure of the erection pressing against him. Thomas broke the kiss and Jimmy could feel the flush prickling his skin under the intense gaze. 

"Are you ready?" Thomas asked, the firm grip on Jimmy's hip telling him the under-butler certainly was. As he stared back, he offered no resistance to his arms being pushed above his head again and pinned beneath Thomas' remaining hand. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life than in this moment, completely stretched out under the other man. 

"Yes." 

Jimmy groaned and fought not to tense up as the head pushed through the ring of muscles. God, it _ached._ But he knew he could trust Thomas, proven as the man stilled to allow Jimmy to adjust, only pressing forward on his nod. They groaned in unison when Thomas was fully inside, such a foreign sensation for Jimmy but undeniably good. 

"Move," he commanded, needing to know more of this pressure. Thomas slowly rocked into him, his face tense at the pressure Jimmy knew he must be feeling around his cock. He groaned as Thomas' thrusts became more forceful and tugged a hand free to fist it in the other's ink black hair. 

"Christ..." Thomas whispered, leaning down to assault Jimmy's lips again. Jimmy felt like he was drowning in ecstasy. He'd never been with someone he'd known so well beforehand and the _intimacy_ of it was overwhelming. Wrapped so completely around Thomas' body, he felt like he was on fire. His lips, his limbs, inside him... 

They were committing a crime. An hour ago he would have sworn he'd die before doing this, and yet, caught in the moment, Jimmy couldn't imagine a greater pleasure existing in this world. This would have been far easier if Thomas was a brute of a lover. Now all Jimmy wanted was more. 

He tore away from Thomas' demanding lips and let out a cry at the simultaneous sensation of that unknown sensitive spot within being struck again, and at the firm grip being applied to his cock, Thomas finally having deigned to move his hand from Jimmy's hip. 

He was so close – they both were – and Jimmy desperately didn't want it to end. Then they'd be forced to come crashing back down to reality. To Lord Tarnworth, and God only knew what more the man could want from them. No, he just wanted to stay like this, looking into Thomas' eyes and on the precipice of pleasure, as if nothing else existed. As if a crucial part of what Jimmy thought made him who he was had not been irrevocably shaken. 

"Just let go," Thomas panted. "I'll meet you on the other side, I _promise_." 

And just like that, seeing the sincerity and safety Thomas offered in his eyes, Jimmy finally gave himself over to the pleasure, arching his back into Thomas as his release practically ripped through him, Thomas' name on his lips. Jimmy's name on Thomas' as he followed moments later. 

\---

Thomas slid out of Jimmy and rolled onto his back, beside him. Both panting, they laced their fingers together, eyes closed, pretending there wasn't a man whose greedy eyes were practically scraping over their sweat-covered bodies. 

"My, my. What a performance. How fortunate to find two with a prior connection, to get to play Cupid. It almost seems a shame to ruin it now rather than let you both bask in your new found intimacy. Almost." Lord Tarnworth's throaty laugh made Thomas open his eyes, catching the sneer that could have rivalled his own. 

The 'gentleman' was obscenely rubbing the obvious erection through the fabric of his trousers, his eyes narrowed on Thomas. 

"On your knees, both of you," Lord Tarnworth snapped. "I have changed my mind." 

Still feeling somewhat lethargic, they shifted to kneel side by side, silent, hands clasped. A slight blush tinged Jimmy's cheeks, no doubt caused by the reality of having cum drying on his stomach and running slowly from his arse. All Thomas wanted to know was what exactly the man could have changed his mind about. 

"James, open the desk drawer and remove the contents." 

Jimmy obediently rose to his feet and padded over to the drawer. "What...?" 

Thomas' eyes widened as he saw a pair of handcuffs dangling from Jimmy's fingers. He vaguely recalled reading a magazine article about the new design several years ago. Why they were present, Thomas dreaded to think. 

"Good, now close one of the cuffs around your right wrist. The mechanism is really rather simple." 

Jimmy didn't even pause, just closed one half of the device around his wrist and waited for the next order. It was like the fight had completely gone out of him which Thomas could well understand. They both just wanted to get out of this un-maimed and deal with the aftermath. Laughably, he realised they were trying to look after each other – the gun had been aimed at Thomas, not Jimmy. 

"Attach the other half to that desk leg and stay on the floor." 

Again, Jimmy followed the orders and returned to his knees, now attached to the ornate oak leg. There was no way he'd be able to get out on his own, that was clear. 

Thomas could practically feel Lord Tarnworth's eyes burning holes on him.The man was the epitome of vulgarity, watching Thomas, massaging his crotch and actually licking his lips. It suddenly dawned on him why Jimmy had been removed from the situation. Why he had been left to endure this ocular molestation. 

He watched in growing horror as Lord Tarnworth stood from the bed and strutted behind him, nestling the tip of the gun in Thomas' hair. 

"Yes, Mr Barrow, I _have_ changed my mind. While I would never degrade myself with a footman, an under-butler is another matter entirely. I am going to fuck you, Mr Barrow. I am going to make you scream for me. Get on the bed, now." 

Feeling the gun nudge him forward, Thomas lurched to his feet and clambered onto the bed, again settling on his knees. He fought to keep his breathing steady. He _wouldn't_ give Lord Tarnworth the satisfaction of seeing him panic, even though the man was now pacing towards him with the previously discarded jar of oil in his free hand. Thomas flinched as it was tossed towards him. 

"As a reward for your previous performance, I shall be generous. You have three minutes to prepare yourself." 

With slightly shaking hands, Thomas picked up the jar and unscrewed the lid. He looked over at Jimmy who was watching with wide eyes. Thank _God_ it was him and not Jimmy who his lordship was using. Thomas covered three fingers in the slippery liquid and quickly slid one inside himself. His body was at war with itself – it wanted to feel aroused from the sensation of impaling himself, albeit too quickly, yet could barely think of pleasure, knowing who he was preparing himself for. Still, he'd be a fool to refuse – the alternative would be excruciating. 

As he slid the second finger in, Lord Tarnworth slid his dinner jacket off, pulled down his braces and unbuttoned his trousers. By the time Thomas was wincing in discomfort from the third finger, his lordship had freed his cock, already leaking from the tip. Thomas stared in horror at the appendage, reality fully catching up with hm. It wasn't abnormally long but it had a noticeable girth and that was what would hurt 

"Time's up. On your hands and knees, facing dear James. Mustn't leave him out." 

Thomas did as he was told but couldn't bring himself to look at Jimmy again. Not like this... _please._

Amidst his inner turmoil, he barely registered the other man settling behind him until two cold hands jerked his legs further apart, one of them still holding the bloody gun, now flush to his leg. With a savage thrust that almost unbalanced them both, Lord Tarnworth forced himself down to the root. 

_Christ, it hurt._

Thomas couldn't help the agonised wail that escaped his gritted teeth as the internal burn seemed to pulse. The already bruising grip on his hips tightened as his lordship jerked his body into the brutal thrusts, his grunts blending with Thomas' gasps of pain. 

" _Yes._ Take it, you filthy whore! You were born to serve me," Lord Tarnworth laughed maliciously. 

And Thomas _felt_ like a whore. There was no intimacy in this – this was a transaction of services rendered. He could feel tears rolling down his cheeks, his cries on the cusp of becoming screams. Why wasn't it over yet? 

\---

Jimmy was unable to tear his eyes away. His heart broke again and again every time he saw the desperation and agony in Thomas' teary eyes. He wanted to shove the disgusting creature away from Thomas, wanted to beat the man until he wouldn't be recognisable. How _dare_ he! 

Lord Tarnworth grinned at Jimmy and made a particularly hard thrust. It was like he was proving a point that he was in charge, could do whatever he liked to Thomas' body, and there was nothing Jimmy could do about it. His cuffed wrist was already sore from the countless times he had reflexively tried to leap up. There was nothing he could have done to stop this. Realistically, he knew this yet he felt his own tears sting his eyes, Thomas' cries of pain making him sick to his stomach. It was with relief that Jimmy watched Lord Tarnworth finally climax inside of Thomas and slide off the bed to straighten up his clothes. 

"Thomas?" He called out warily but gained no response. Instead, the under-butler eased onto his side and curled up, sobbing quietly into his arm. Jimmy huffed in frustration and tugged uselessly at the restraint again. He needed to do something – _anything_ – for Thomas. 

"Now, now, James. If you hurt your poor wrist, how will you ever carry all of those important trays?" 

Jimmy could barely bring himself to look at the bastard. 

"Mr Barrow, you were an exquisite bedfellow. Whoever has you next will be a lucky man, mark my words. Alas, I am afraid our activities shall have to conclude for the night." 

Thomas didn't seem to be registering any of this but Jimmy was keenly aware of the man standing beside him, rummaging through the desk drawers. 

"Ah! Writing supplies. It is always polite, boys, to leave a note to thank one's host for the entertainment. After all, I would not want such excellent performers arrested on my account." 

The cogs of reality seemed to be grinding into action as his lordship scribbled away. The mad man was most likely planning on escaping into the night, leaving the two servants to be discovered in his room. How much influence did this man have to be so confident that he would get away with it? 

Note completed, Lord Tarnworth stepped back into Jimmy's sight and, of all things, opened a window. The reason why became all too apparent to him as his lordship scooped up all of their clothing and threw every last piece out into the night. 

"What are you doing!" Jimmy gasped. 

"Wouldn't want to make things too easy for you," he chuckled before moving to return his own belongings to his case. He wasn't even holding his gun anymore, so confident that Jimmy's cuff would hold and that Thomas was in no state to assault him. 

"Well, it has been lovely but must dash. The car will be waiting for me." As he crossed the room with case in hand, he ran a hand through Thomas' hair and laughed at the obvious flinch. 

"Oh, James dear, I will be placing my note outside of the room along with the keys to the door and your cuff. I hope our paths cross again. Good luck." 

At last, the devil incarnate left, locking the door behind him. The worst night of their lives was over and God only knew what the morning would bring. But dawn was hours away and in the meantime all he could focus on were Thomas' sobs. He would have given anything to be able to comfort the man but Jimmy couldn't imagine what the other was going through. Yes, his own actions were done at gun point but at least they were with somebody he knew and mostly trusted. Thomas had been assaulted, degraded even. 

"Thomas," he called out, desperate to break the heavy silence. "We can get through this – I'm sure off it." He had no idea what to say... For a moment it looked like his words had failed to register with the other. 

"I-I'll be okay, it's just the shock. You should go to sleep, Jimmy, so you're prepared to face the morning. I'm sorry... but I might need you then. Don't know if I can talk about this...not with Mr Carson." 

Jimmy had to strain to hear Thomas, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Anything you need, I promise. You can trust me too, Thomas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! Again, any constructive criticism will be very much appreciated.


	2. Protect Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the second chapter of Until I Can't Breathe!

After what felt like hours of stressing, he had yet to sleep. How could he, knowing what had happened, not knowing what was to come? Instead, he had spent his time watching Thomas, studying him to avoid thinking of when someone would inevitably walk through that door. Right now, they were safe in a bubble – a toxic bubble, yes – but safe nevertheless. No one else knew what had happened within this room. Those people lived in the world they had always known, were safe dreaming in their beds. Where he and Thomas should be. 

But they weren't. No, they were trapped here and as soon as that door opens the world out there would never be the same. Jimmy knew that sounded melodramatic but he couldn't think of a better way to put it. Before he came into this room Jimmy hadn't really felt anything beyond friendship with Thomas, he was sure of his heterosexuality and had felt reasonably safe in this house. Now...he just wasn't sure. 

One thing was crystal clear: he could never go back to an amicable friendship with Thomas. Didn't even know if he _wanted_ to. It wasn't just because they'd had sex – Jimmy had been involved in many a casual affair and had little trouble parting from these women. With Thomas, granted under stressful conditions, Jimmy was certain he had felt the level of desire poets and lyricists write about. He had yearned for Thomas, needed more, still wanted more. Was it because he felt like he could truly trust Thomas? Jimmy had learned a long time ago that it was dangerous to put that much faith in a person yet in that moment it had come naturally. 

The future might have been easier to predict if Lord Tarnworth had stopped at voyeurism to sate his own pleasure. Then Thomas might have been secured to another piece of furniture and left alone like Jimmy. They might even have been allowed to leave for their own rooms, allowing what they had done to remain a secret. 

_If._

The reality was Thomas had been hurt beyond Jimmy's comprehension. He couldn't even begin to guess at what was going through the other man's mind right now. He still remained on the soiled sheets, curled up tightly as if that would protect him from future harm. Jimmy had no idea how long he'd listened to the muffled sobs and watched the shoulders shake for. He couldn't imagine the amount of pain Thomas was in – he couldn't do _anything._ The only thing he really wanted to do was wrap Thomas in his arms and tell him everything would be okay, the biggest lie going but one they both needed. 

Christ, he didn't even know if Thomas would want anyone near him after what Lord Tarnworth had done to him. It was another kick in the teeth to find something with the potential to be great only to have its chances throttled by a heartless bastard. Jimmy would do anything to help Thomas. It was a promise he meant to keep, the least he could do after his monumental fuck up. It would start with their discovery and end with seeing a sincere smile shape Thomas' lips. 

It was with this sense of purpose within the chaos of the unknown that Jimmy finally fell asleep. By the time he awoke, the early spring sunrise had significantly lightened the room beyond the reach of the dull lamp. At some point he must have settled onto his side but this now left him without a view of Thomas. Stiffly, he tentatively settled onto his backside, drawing one knee up to rest his chin on his free arm. Thomas couldn't have moved an inch, of that he was sure. 

"Someone's coming. I heard noise at the door." Thomas spoke, his voice hoarse. But that he was speaking was surely a good sign, Jimmy could only assume. 

What he had said was anything but good, however. The noise must have been what roused him from sleep, perhaps one of the maids or even Alfred trying to trace the two missing staff back to their last known location. Most were aware that Thomas had been acting valet for Lord Tarnworth and the hall boy would know that Jimmy had been summoned here. The bubble was well and truly about to be burst. 

What must have only been minutes later, Jimmy heard the footfall in the hallway himself, this time sounding like more than one. Much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that whoever had first come must have gone to fetch a senior member of staff. It was going to be Mr Carson, that was just how bad their luck was right now. Straight-laced Mr Carson was going to discover two of his staff naked in the room assigned to a gentleman of good breeding. The man was a classist snob and Jimmy feared that he would automatically assign blame to the two of them, at the very least for potentially bringing scandal to his precious Downton Abbey. He realised he could just about hear the muffled voices through the door. 

"And you say you found the note and keys right here, Alfred?" 

"Yes, Mr Carson. I saw that the letter was addressed to you and his lordship and I also recognised the room key." 

As feared, Mr Carson to the bloody rescue. And now Alfred was going to see them like this too; the man seemed destined to be forever discovering Jimmy and Thomas in compromising circumstances. He didn't hear anything else for a moment and assumed Mr Carson was reading whatever nonsense Lord Tarnworth had written in that letter. 

"Well? What does it say?" 

There was no mistaking that accent; Mrs Hughes was here too. As if they hadn't been humiliated enough. Still, perhaps she would defend them from Mr Carson's foreseeable condemnation. 

"'To whom it may concern, I offer my sincerest apologies for the mess I have left behind following my unexpected departure last night. I would also like to thank the Crawleys for their generous hospitality and the butler for maintaining such generous, amenable staff. They do this house great credit. It would give me endless joy if the Crawleys would allow me the honour of hosting them in the near future as recompense for the memorable time I have spent here. Yours, Tarnworth'. Stealing away in the middle of the night? How improper." 

If the man thought _that_ was improper, he was in for a shock when he opened that door. His dark attempt at humour allowed him to ignore how he and Thomas had been written off as 'mess'. 

"We should open this door then. I am still puzzled by this second key and there is a chance we are no closer to finding our missing under-butler and footman," Mrs Hughes pressed. 

As he heard the tell-tale scrape of the key in the lock, he noticed Thomas curl tighter, could see the light tremors. Jimmy wished he could hide away too but he had to deal with this as best he could and protect Thomas. Watching the doorknob turn, he slowly released a calming breath and tore his eyes away from Thomas, ready to make eye contact with their 'rescuers'. The door swung open and Mr Carson's imposing presence instantly filled the room. 

"Good Lord." Mr Carson's mouth was uncharacteristically gaping, his eyes, Jimmy noticed, immediately locking onto Thomas. By the time he had recovered from that initial shock and turned his alarmingly wide eyes on Jimmy, both Mrs Hughes and Alfred had stepped around the butler to see what had caused the reaction. If Jimmy had been anywhere else, he might have laughed at the speed in which Alfred's face went from its unattractive pasty white to a bright scarlet. To her credit, Mrs Hughes did not shriek like other women might have, the hand she brought to her mouth letting a barely audible gasp escape. It was she who took action while Mr Carson remained frozen in shock, eyes darting between the two sources of Lord Tarnworth's 'mess'. 

"Alfred, give me the other key, go into the closet by the servant stairwell and bring back a few of the winter blankets. Quick as you can." Alfred didn't need telling twice, practically running out of the room once the key to Jimmy's freedom was pressed into Mrs Hughes' palm. It was only as she began to approach him that it truly seemed to dawn on both he and Carson that Jimmy was naked. Blush rising painfully fast, he lowered his eyes to the floor, certainly couldn't look at her the way he was now. 

"Mrs Hughes, you should not be forced to look upon this." Mr Carson's voice was gruff, more strained than usual. He stepped between Jimmy and Mrs Hughes and took the key from her light grasp. 

"Don't be ridiculous, I am more than capable of helping." She tutted at him, Jimmy sneaking a glance up to see her irate expression. Mr Carson tilted his head down to talk more discreetly into her ear. Unfortunately for the butler, Mr Carson's idea of a discreet volume in a silent room meant Jimmy could still hear every word. 

"Think of them. Their dignity has clearly already been tarnished enough without having a respectable woman, professional though you undoubtedly are, continue to see them in such a state of undress. Perhaps you could have a fire lit in my office and see to it that the way is clear when they are brought down?" The man could have been a politician, Jimmy mused, as he saw Mrs Hughes concede, bypassing Alfred on her way out. 

It was clear to see that Mr Carson's natural need for order and control had returned. He stepped back over to Jimmy and held his free hand out, clearing his throat expectantly. Wincing at the stiffness in his shoulder joint, Jimmy carefully raised the cuffed arm up as far as the half of the device secured to the wooden leg would allow, placing his wrist in the outstretched hand. God forbid he scratch the desk leg in Mr Carson's presence. Moments later, he heard the blessed click of the lock releasing and breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure of the weighty device left him. Cradling his newly freed wrist to his chest, he couldn't help the flinch at the thunk the device made as Mr Carson let it fall to the floor. 

"Alfred, come here." Mr Carson summoned the palpably uncomfortable footman to his side and took one of the thick woollen blanket off the stack in Alfred's arms. He shook it out and, to Jimmy's surprise, draped it over Jimmy's back rather than throwing it at his feet. It was only as he was covered that Jimmy realised how cold he was, the window having been left partially open all night by Lord Tarnworth, so he quickly wrapped the large blanket around himself as best he could. 

"Can you stand?" Mr Carson finally addressed him, his voice so calm Jimmy could not read anything from it. 

"Y-yes." He stumbled over the word, voice slightly croaky from disuse and thirst. Rising to his feet took longer than it should have, his exhaustion and various aches hindering him slightly. He would have fallen flat on his face, had Mr Carson not remained attentive, as one of his knees nearly gave out. Luckily, the older man caught him by the elbow and steadied him, to which Jimmy nodded his thanks. Upright, Jimmy could now see the full extent of the pitiful scene Lord Tarnworth had created on the bed. No wonder they had decided to deal with Jimmy first. 

He couldn't fathom how Thomas had managed to curl into himself so tightly, knees drawn to his chest and face completely hidden in his arms. Thomas normally had a decent physical presence but like that he looked so small and defenceless. It didn't help that the harsh bruising visible around one of his hips looked infinitely more painful on the man's corpse-white skin. Most of this was not new to Jimmy, however. What had turned his stomach were the smears of dried blood and, presumably, semen marking the duvet cover where Lord Tarnworth had fucked Thomas. It made Jimmy appreciate all over again how lucky he had been to only be touched by Thomas, by someone who had done everything not to hurt him. 

He slowly padded over to Thomas' trembling body and, freeing one hand from within the confines of his blanket, began to run his fingers through the under-butler's hair. He almost pulled away at the initial flinch this caused until he registered that the tremors had almost ceased after a moment. 

"I think it's going to be okay now," he spoke quietly. "We're going to get out of here." 

"Mr Barrow, I need to be able to have you stand. Would it be possible for you to sit up?" Mr Carson's tone was noticeably softer now, but practical nevertheless. Thomas was in a bit of an awkward position for this task, given that his head was at the foot of the bed. Jimmy stepped aside as Mr Carson and Alfred moved closer. 

Far more slowly than Jimmy had moved, Thomas uncurled and began to rise, pushing up with the arm underneath himself, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed where both Alfred and Mr Carson now stood. Jimmy could see that neither had failed to notice the marks of dried cum on Thomas' stomach, although he couldn't say with certainty if they suspected whose it was. With pain-filled gasps, the under-butler finally rested on his backside with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

"Alfred, hand me the blanket. I need you to _carefully_ guide Mr Barrow to his feet and hold him steady while I cover him." 

Blanket now open in Carson's hands, Jimmy watched Alfred move in front of Thomas, hands outstretched but clearly unsure of where to put them. Jimmy bet Alfred wished he was wearing his white serving gloves so he didn't actually have to touch the other man anywhere. Thomas gingerly clasped Alfred's left wrist and upper right arm and, gritting his teeth, shakily rose to his feet. As with Jimmy, the evident stiffness in Thomas' limbs almost caused him to fall but, to Alfred's credit, he was saved from that further humility. Securing Thomas' grip on his wrist, Alfred held the under-butler steady by pressing his free hand to the other's waist. Just as efficiently, Mr Carson wrapped the blanket around Thomas who let go of Alfred to secure the ends around himself. 

Jimmy almost cringed at properly seeing Thomas' face for the first time in hours. His cheeks shone with tear streaks, some dry but some worryingly fresh, his eyes pink and puffy. His gaze remained fixed to the floor, barely blinking and an expression Jimmy had never seen in them shining through the glimmer of unshed tears. He looked _lost._ Everything about Thomas' face was usually ridiculously calculated and to see it so raw now seemed sickeningly wrong. 

"James." 

Jimmy snapped back to attention and looked towards the evidently impatient butler. He had obviously called Jimmy's name more than once. 

"Where are your clothes? I cannot see them and would like to assume that neither of you walked through the house without them." That last part had an edge of threat in it. 

"Lord Tarnworth threw them out that window." He nodded to the window in question, the cause of the slightly chilly temperature. 

"Out the-." Mr Carson stormed over to the window, pushing it all the way open and sticking his head out. Judging by the annoyance as he slammed the window closed and turned back to Jimmy, two sets of clothing were indeed strewn across the ground below. 

"Alfred, go outside and collect those clothes immediately. We are expecting deliveries," he checked his pocket watch, "within the hour and I cannot have rumours spreading to the village." As Alfred dashed out, Mr Carson turned his attention back to Jimmy and Thomas. 

"To my office." 

He knew they would have to move quickly, both family and servants soon to make appearances in the corridors if Jimmy's assumption of the time was correct. It was practically inevitable that rumours would spread among the servants of what had happened to the two most disliked members of staff – they might even enjoy it – but it would be something else entirely if, for example, Lady Edith came across them on her way to breakfast. Of course, Lord Grantham would probably have to be informed, a task for Mr Carson, most likely. He sighed. If Carson didn't loathe them both already, he certainly would by the end of the day. 

While his mind was in turmoil, Jimmy and Thomas had begun to shakily walk out of their prison – their hell. Jimmy thought he was slow enough himself, exhausted as he was, yet might have been skipping in comparison to Thomas' small, unsteady limps. As they finally passed through the doorframe, Jimmy couldn't help but give a sigh of relief, ridiculous though it was. It wasn't like all his problems had magically gone away, but still... 

Mr Carson locked the door behind them, sealing the crime scene for further inspection, Jimmy mused. Might as well try and keep a sense of humour, not dwell on the reality, so he could stay strong for Thomas' sake. They were _so close_ to the servant stairwell when they were discovered. Just a minute more and they would have escaped but, at this point, Jimmy wasn't even surprised. 

"Mr Carson-oh!" The familiar Irish accent alerted Jimmy to Mr Branson's presence behind them as he swung round a bend in the corridor. While the unexpected loud voice made him jump slightly, it completely startled Thomas, the surprise combining with his unstable steps and causing him to fall to his knees, barely catching himself with his blanket-wrapped hands. Jimmy felt useless, just standing there, but he knew damn well if he tried to help Thomas up by himself he'd probably fall down too. He placed his hand on Thomas' shoulder and turned to see if Mr Carson's face was as red as he imagined. 

"Mr Branson," the butler said through gritted teeth. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would go elsewhere for the moment. If you have need of me, I will make myself available after the breakfast service." His face was an impressive shade of scarlet, Jimmy was not disappointed. Branson just looked confused, obviously not expecting to see the butler herding his ridiculously underdressed staff down the corridor. 

"What's happened? At least let me help Mr Barrow up." He bypassed Mr Carson and stood by Thomas' unguarded side, reaching out to grab the outlined of the elbow. Jimmy swore he heard Mr Carson huff in defeat and, gesturing for Jimmy to move aside, seized Thomas' other elbow. Together, they returned Thomas to his feet, too abruptly if the small whimpers of pain were anything to go by. He saw Branson's eyes widen further as he got a good look at the under-butler. 

"Are you cryi-Mr Carson, what _happened_?" Branson was flabbergasted, for lack of a better word. Seeing the unflappable Thomas Barrow in such a state must have been a shock to the system – the men had been butting heads for years. 

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Mr Branson." Mr Carson briskly walked over to the servant entrance and whipped the door open, gesturing for Jimmy and Thomas to resume their procession. "If you could be discreet by not mentioning this, we would all be grateful for it." That said, Mr Carson stepped through and closed the door behind them. Jimmy didn't think he had ever seen the butler be so blunt with a member of the family, even if it was only Branson. 

"Best let me walk in front. I do not need either of you electing to take a dive down the stairs." 

It felt like an age, bound as they were to Thomas' pace, but they eventually made it to the bottom of the staircase where, blessedly, the path to Mr Carson's office was not teeming with fellow servants. Only Mrs Hughes and Alfred were present, the latter holding their clothes. 

"I've had anyone still downstairs confined to the kitchen and dining room," Mrs Hughes informed them as they were ushered through the door of Mr Carson's office. Fire roaring, the room was blessedly warm and Jimmy could dream of feeling his toes again. Two chairs had been placed before the desk, evidently the scene of their interrogation. He stopped in the middle of the open space and stood beside Thomas, awaiting further instruction. Now, if ever, was a time to play by the rules. Even Jimmy could recognise that. 

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes. Alfred, return the livery to the relevant bedrooms then resume your normal morning duties. I trust that I do not need to remind you that what you have seen is not an opportunity for gossip?" 

"No, Mr Carson." 

Satisfied, he closed the door, turning his attention to the source of his problems. 

"Sit down," he ordered, taking his own seat while Mrs Hughes stood beside him. 

They eased themselves onto the decidedly uncomfortable chairs, Jimmy making eye contact with the butler, Thomas looking anywhere but. He wished he could hold Thomas' hand but that would be pushing it. Far as he could tell, they were lucky they hadn't been dismissed as soon as they were discovered. 

"Explain to me why I found my under-butler and First Footman in the bedroom of an esteemed guest. Explain to me why I found you in such a condition. Explain to me why I should not dismiss the two of you, with no reference, for bringing scandal to this house." Mr Carson's tone grew harsher by the word and Jimmy fought not to look away from the piercing glare. 

"I can't imagine you'll believe me, Mr Carson, but it weren't my fault, nor Tho-Mr Barrow's. I'll tell you the truth, but I don’t know what good it'll do." Jimmy's voice was still a little raspy, having not drunk anything in hours. He licked his dry lips and began to speak again. 

"I was about to go up for the night but one of the hall boys collared me and said I was to report to Lord Tarnworth's room on Mr Barrow's order. When-" 

"You ordered this, Mr Barrow?" Mr Carson interrupted. "You had a hand in this?" 

Damn it, Jimmy was supposed to do the talking. Why couldn't one thing go to plan? 

"Not like that." Thomas spoke softly, still adamantly refusing to look anyone in the eye. "You know I was acting-valet for Lord Tarnworth and I went to attend him, following the evening meal. He had the lights low when I entered...barely visible...and, before I could react, he pressed a gun to my head." 

"A _gun_?" Mrs Hughes was incredulous. If an Earl with a gun was going to shock her, she was in for a rude awakening. Still, Jimmy desperately hoped that she would not leave; he couldn't imagine anyone else putting a stop to the verbal thrashing Mr Carson would likely be gifting them with. 

"Yes," he continued. "A knife too, I think, but I can't quite remember. He told me I was to have one of the footmen come up to make entertainment. I rang the bell for a maid and...told her to have a hall boy send James up." 

It was odd hearing all these pauses in Thomas' speech. He was usually as fastidious about how he spoke as he was about how he dressed, and now both were out of sorts. 

"And did you not think to ask the maid for help?" Mr Carson accused. 

"How? His lordship stood out of sight but close enough to hear when I spoke to the maid. He would have shot me if I'd asked for help – I know the type. Lords think they can get away with whatever they like." 

Jimmy might have sworn that Mr Carson scowled at that last comment, but Mrs Hughes looked decidedly more thoughtful. 

"James arrived and then Lord Tarnworth revealed his plan. I'd had an idea of what he'd meant by 'entertainment' but I didn't think he would risk it in a house like this." 

"And what occurred once James was there?" Mrs Hughes spoke softly, reacting to Thomas' evident state of fragility, Jimmy supposed. Still, it was apparent that the under-butler had reached the end of his tether. 

"He...I...I _can't_." He bit his lip and scrunched his eyes closed, pulling the blanket closer to him. What came next in the recounting wasn't even that bad, in comparison to what came later, but Thomas'd had enough and Jimmy would be damned if he let Thomas suffer anymore where he could help. 

"I'll go on." He retold how he'd been forced to undress and pleasure Thomas without being too graphic, pausing as Mr Carson had a heated, and short-lived, argument with Mrs Hughes in an attempt to get her to leave at the first mention of Thomas' cock. Not that he said it so crassly, of course. He recounted how Lord Tarnworth had spoken to him, ordered Jimmy to undress Thomas and ultimately demanded that the two servants had sex. For the sake of not worsening the level of redness in Mr Carson's face, Jimmy glossed over how certain things had made him feel, especially his borderline existential crisis nearly every time Thomas touched him. 

As he said, that was the easy part. Both of them, while humiliated, had been left largely unscathed up to that point. Now he had to talk about why Thomas was significantly worse for wear than Jimmy, why it was Jimmy doing the talking when he should have been in some sort of catatonic shock. 

"His lordship had me go in the desk drawer, pull out the handcuffs and attach myself to the table. I thought, for some reason, he might have another one for Mr Barrow and this was how he'd make his escape. Instead, he went behind Mr Barrow, pressed the gun to the back of his head and said he was going to...err... _use_ him. Told him to get on the bed and gave him a few minutes to prepare himself because we'd pleased him." 

"Did you not consider refusing, Mr Barrow? It seems to me you were all too eager for more of these immoral acts," Mr Carson accused, the intense glare he inflicted on Thomas making him flinch without even seeing it. 

"That is quite enough of that talk, Mr Carson. Everything we found in that room suggests that nothing was consensual." Mrs Hughes proved Jimmy right in coming to their defence. "Look at poor Thomas, how can you believe otherwise?" 

"Just because it did not go how he thought it might, that does not rule out-" 

Jimmy tuned out their bickering to turn back to Thomas and was dismayed at what he saw. Tears had once again begun to roll down the already stained cheeks, and he was trembling so much Jimmy feared he might fall from his seat. It couldn't have been easy listening to an argument over whether or not he consented to be _raped._ Jimmy had to fight with himself not to leap from the seat, wrap Thomas in his arms, and yell for Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes to just shut up. Why weren't they seeing the effects their words were having? 

"This is getting us nowhere," Mrs Hughes snapped. "Thomas-" She paused when she saw the state the under-butler was in again. This did not seem to deter Mr Carson, however. 

"Mr Barrow, tears will get a man nowhere." His voice was cold. Where had the man that had been so patient with them while freeing them from the room gone? "Did you, or did you not, consent to lying with our esteemed guest?" 

After all they'd told him, and he could still refer to Lord Tarnworth as 'esteemed'? 

"N-not how you think." Thomas' voice was barely above a whisper at this point. "I didn't want it, but it's easier not to fight when y-you know the other man will win. When it happened last time..." 

_What?_

"Are you telling me this has happened before?" Was that a hint of concern in Mr Carson's voice? 

"During the war...at the Front. I was walking back to my unit after running an errand and I w-was set upon by three men. They dragged me into an abandoned, half-collapsed dugout...held me down...tore my trousers and underwear away...took turns with me. I tried calling for help and they beat me so I just st-stopped struggling. Then they left and I put myself back together...told my CO I'd fallen and couldn't walk very well because of it." 

Jimmy could feel his heart breaking all over again, a girlish thing to say but true all the same. How could one man go through so much horror so soon in his life? He'd heard that the war made men do mad things but this was something else. The angry red had bled from Mr Carson's face while Thomas spoke. Was he finally understanding? 

"Continue." The butler spoke stiffly, looking at Jimmy. 

"Well, while Mr Barrow did as he was told, Lord Tarnworth got undressed. He ordered Mr Barrow to get on all fours and face me. He...raped him, said horrible things, _laughed_." Jimmy's own speech was juddering, not quite believing that what he said was true, it was so awful. "His lordship stood and redressed, packed his things and wrote that letter so we wouldn't be arrested. Oh, and he threw our clothes out the window, but you already know about that. And then he left for his car." He sighed with relief, finally done. 

Mr Carson visibly swallowed and reassembled his butler façade. "Mrs Hughes, would you have two maids not aiding with breakfast draw the bath. I will assist..." He trailed off and checked his pocket watch. "It is later than I thought, I had best fetch Alfred." 

Both left the office, Mrs Hughes throwing them one last look of concern. Jimmy was just about to try and speak to Thomas when Mr Carson returned with Alfred in tow. 

"Alfred will assist you in ascending the stairs while I attend to the breakfast service and inform Lord Grantham as to why his guest has left. Neither of you will be expected to work today – you are to recuperate once you have washed yourselves. Either myself or Mrs Hughes will visit later to discuss what will happen next. The hall is clear, leave now." 

\---

It was easier said than done heaving himself up from that chair. Thomas' whole body ached, his mouth was as dry as a desert, his eyes stung from crying and he hadn't slept since God knew when. But he didn't want to anger Mr Carson again, not with his and Jimmy's futures hanging in the balance. He took a deep breath and stood, just about managing to stop himself from falling back down. Following Jimmy, and Alfred behind him, they made their way through the corridor and began to make progress up the stairs. It was a long way up and Thomas found if he slipped back into the numb state he had been in after Lord Tarnworth had left the exhaustion was not so overwhelming. Still, they had to take breaks and more than once Thomas felt Alfred's steadying hands on him when he stumbled. 

Before, Thomas would have been able to charge up these stairs with ease, would have mocked those who flagged behind. This was just another humiliation, as if what had gone on in Mr Carson's office wasn't enough. What he had to reveal... He had sworn that no one would ever find out about what had happened during the war, yet he had only gone and volunteered the information. But they had to understand that even if being used was his purpose, it was not something he wanted. 

Blessedly, they finally made it to the servant's bathroom. It had taken them so long to make the climb that the maids had already managed to heat enough water for the bath, the waterline resting just over halfway up the tub. An additional bowl of warm water and cloths had been placed on the chest of drawers by the door, and two sets of pyjamas, towels and wash cloths rested beside the bath. 

"I'll...erm...leave you both to it," Alfred mumbled and closed the door behind him, likely glad to be free of them at long last. They were going to owe him a lot before all of this was over, Thomas sensed. There certainly shouldn't be any more unnecessary ribbing by either himself or Jimmy. 

Jimmy... 

He hadn't properly looked at the other man for what felt like an age – not his face at any rate. Hadn't been able to bring himself to do so, not since before Lord Tarnworth had him. What would he see in those beautiful eyes now they were free? Disgust? Shame? Something else entirely? He didn't know, couldn't guess, shouldn't hope- 

" _Thomas_. You need to calm down. I haven't a clue why you're breathing so fast." 

Was he? He hadn't even noticed. 

"But we're safe now, nobody else is going to see us for a fair while, it's just you and me." 

Eyes still trained on the floor, Thomas watched Jimmy move right in front of him, their toes mere inches apart. What was he doing? 

"Look at me, please. I want to help you, I-. Lord, I sound like a right girl," Jimmy laughed, although it sounded hollow to Thomas. "I _will_ help you as best I can but I need help from you too. Please don't shut me out so soon after having practically everything I though I knew about myself shaken up. Please." 

And, God help him, but Thomas raised his head and looked into Jimmy's desperate eyes. Jimmy was scared too, he could see that now. He could see that he wasn't alone like last time, had someone he could truly trust. Not that this was the time to get poetic. And yet... 

"I won't abandon you, Jimmy, if that's what you're worried about. I don't have anything else – I don't even have you, truth be t-" 

"Shut up," he frowned, and Thomas obediently fell silent. "You do have me, and together we will get through whatever happens, right?" 

He sounded so earnest, everything about him attested to that. Nevertheless, the pessimist in Thomas couldn't rule out that Jimmy might change his mind once things have calmed down. Jimmy was just as capable of being cold and detached, and Thomas couldn't risk having his heart broken again. His head hurt, this was the last thing he should be thinking about right now. 

"Let's just get cleaned up." Thomas dropped his gaze, along with his grip on the blanket, letting it fall to the floor. It wasn't as if he had any pride left to lose in front of the other man. He turned to the bowl of water, soaked one of the cloths and began to carefully wipe away the fluids dried around his backside. Thomas winced as he scrubbed particularly tender areas, biting his lip to trap any gasps. He was so engrossed in remaining collected that he hadn't noticed Jimmy standing naked beside him with his own cloth until their hands brushed in the bowl. It seemed they had both had the same idea to get this part over with before getting in the bath. 

At long last, the water he rung from the cloth ran as clear as he was likely to get and he could finally soak his aching body. Jimmy had already gotten in, the lack of blood and less tender flesh allowing him to finish well before Thomas. He had situated himself at one end of the fairly large bath and drawn his legs to his chest, leaving just enough room for Thomas. He had also made significant progress on the mess on his stomach, an uncomfortable feeling Thomas himself was itching to clean off. He couldn't help the sigh of contentment as he folded himself into the warm water, thankful that he didn't further shame himself by slipping. 

It would be so easy to fall asleep right here. Warm, silent but for their breathing and Jimmy cleaning himself. He folded his arms on his knees and rested his forehead against them, concentrating on the sound of the water running off Jimmy's wash cloth. He could feel himself drifting off... 

"Thomas, come on." Jimmy lightly nudged Thomas' foot with his own. "We can sleep as soon as you've cleaned up." Jimmy stood up and stepped out of the bath, and Thomas was ridiculously thankful that his eyes were still averted. Hurt and exhausted he may be, but having such a close confrontation with all that wet, smooth skin was likely to affect him in ways he did not want to deal with right now. 

"Here." 

He looked up to find the other fresh cloth draped across the edge of the tub. Right, he had forgotten to pick it up. Quick as he could, Thomas scrubbed away at the remaining mess on his skin, keeping half an eye on Jimmy who was washing his hair in the sink for some reason. He would have to get out soon, he thought, but not just yet, and let himself slide fully beneath the waterline. 

Thomas could barely hear a thing and, with his eyes shut, could let time slip by and pretend he was somewhere else. Maybe he was safe in his bed, dreaming? Maybe he was outside smoking a cigarette? He hadn't had one in _hours._ Or maybe he was- 

He gasped as he was forcefully tugged from the water, two strong hands under his arms. Thomas gulped in air, partly from shock and partly from realising he had let his breath go under the surface. No wonder he had felt so dizzy... 

"Knock it off," Jimmy seethed. He was leaning over the edge of the tub, now clad in pyjama bottoms, and was right in Thomas' face. Was that rage or fear? Thomas couldn't tell. 

"Thomas, please. You keep disappearing and I get that, honestly, but now you're starting to make me think you want it to be permanent." 

"Sorry." Thomas sighed, looking away again. Odd, he felt so exposed with Jimmy staring at him so closely. Why did he feel the need to hide? He wrapped his arms around his knees again and hid his face. "I just... I don't want to do this anymore. This sounds horribly melodramatic, but why should I keep trying when I always get pushed back? I do well in my job and constantly have to fight for some semblance of approval from Mr Carson. I find a purpose as a medic during the war and am hurt by the very soldiers I was trying to help. I discover something with a man I have yearned for, albeit under awful circumstances, and am humiliated right in front of him. What is the right thing to do? Carry on? What would _you_ do?" 

"I can't say you're right or wrong." He felt a hand rest on his arm. "You haven't had the best luck in life, far as I can tell, and most of that isn't your fault, but you must know that you aren't alone. Certainly not since we struck up our friendship. Who knows what will happen in the future? I don't." Thomas looked up, slightly taken aback by how frank Jimmy was being. "But," Jimmy continued. "I do know that we can protect each other because we _understand_ each other. Maybe you could help me when the reality of what I'm feeling fully dawns on me. Maybe I can help pull you back when you feel..." 

"Isolated?" Thomas offered, the brand of suffocating loneliness that had seemed to be tightening its grip for years. 

"Yes, and remind you that you can always talk to me, although I know neither of us are overly keen on being open books. Will you try?" 

"Alright." How he could say no, with Jimmy being so forthright, was beyond him. If Jimmy didn't wake up tomorrow and, thinking that what they had done together was disgusting, decide they should never speak again, perhaps they could support each other. 'Protect', that was what Jimmy had said. 

"Thank you," Jimmy smiled. "Water's getting cold, you should probably hop out." 

Thomas heaved himself up again, and accepted the support of Jimmy's arm as he stepped out, and the towel that was immediately pressed into his hands. He found he did not mind being mothered a little by Jimmy, as unusual as it was. He dried himself off and dressed in the fresh pyjamas without too many complaints from his body, the warm water having alleviated much of the stiffness. 

"You should really take that off to be washed, you know." Jimmy gestured as he finished buttoning up his pyjama shirt. 

Take what off? Thomas looked to where Jimmy was pointing – ah, his glove. Funny how, in all that had happened, nobody had mentioned it until now. He hadn't even noticed it himself and he could only assume that Lord Tarnworth correctly thought it hid something unsightly and had not requested its removal. Thomas still hesitated in removing it now, not wanting the prominent manifestation of his cowardice on show, but the fabric had gotten rather grimy. He unbuttoned and slid off the glove, discarding it on the pile of used towels. 

They parted without a word in the hallway, slipping into their respective rooms. If he had paused, Thomas would have felt the need to say something profound and would likely have come across as awkward. It was difficult to be eloquent on so little sleep, he decided, unless one had been bred to be such. And Thomas certainly hadn't, so why embarrass them both? 

As he shut the door, Thomas realised that for the first time in hours he was alone. He immediately went for the jug of water left on his table, downing and refilling the accompanying glass until he'd drank at least half of it. A plate with a few slices of breaded butter had also been left and Thomas forced himself to eat one. He wasn't particularly hungry but he knew he should eat and didn't want to appear ungrateful as the bread was neither a burnt reject nor thinly cut. That finished, at long last he was able to pull back his covers and fall onto his bed. He closed his eyes and waited patiently for sleep to claim him. 

He waited, and waited, switching positions and adjusting the covers as if that would make a difference. 

_Damn it all!_

Thomas ripped the covers away and sat up, reaching for the spare pack of cigarettes and lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. He lit one and inhaled, knowing he was sulking like a child as he expelled the smoke from his mouth. So many times he had been ready to fall asleep on the spot. Less than half an hour ago, he nearly fell asleep in the bath! And now he was actually in his bed, with the promise of at least a few hours of uninterrupted rest, he couldn't fall asleep. His body was being outright cruel at this point. Was Jimmy having the same issue? 

Thomas stubbed out his cigarette and stood, intent on finding out. Of course, he still could not walk as fast as he would have liked but Jimmy's room was not too far down the hall. He knocked lightly and opened the door, satisfied in discovering that Jimmy, too, was wide awake. The footman was lying in his bed, covers pulled to his chest, and he had to awkwardly angle his head to see Thomas through the partially open door. 

"May I come in?" Thomas asked, not presuming anything after the last time he had visited this room. 

"Yeah, sure. Are you alright?" Jimmy frowned, propping himself up on his elbows as Thomas stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. 

"I can't seem to sleep. I should have passed out the second my head hit the pillow and I just can't seem to do it. Had any success?" 

"No," Jimmy grumbled, clearly just as frustrated as Thomas was. "Can't seem to slow my mind down. Keep thinking about..." He trailed off. 

"About what happened?" 

"Well, yeah, but also about you. If you're doing alright now I can't see for myself. Sorry." He looked away, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, just about visible in the muted sunlight shining through the curtains. "That sounded obsessive." 

"That's okay. It's nice to be worried about." Thomas could feel blood building in his own face. Perhaps he should stop being so honest when he spoke with Jimmy. Sooner or later, he was going to say too much. 

"Do you..." Jimmy glanced up, then looked away again, twisting his hands under the covers. "Do you want to stay here?" He finished quietly. 

Here? In Jimmy's bed, did he mean? Servants beds were rather narrow, they would have to press close to fit. Thomas didn't mind the idea, really. If it was Jimmy, he would be safe. Maybe then he could finally relax. 

"Yes, I do." They would be discovered, he was well aware, but if he could get just a few hours of sleep it would be worth it. Thomas was pretty certain he would be dismissed for potentially causing a scandal anyway, so why not? 

Jimmy shifted closer to the edge of the mattress furthest from Thomas and folded back the covers, relaxing onto his back again with the closer arm stretched out across the bed invitingly. Thomas lay down on his side and slowly let his head fall onto Jimmy's chest, giving the other ample time to pull away. 

"I'm not going to shove you off." Jimmy ran the hand that was now behind Thomas through his hair, urging Thomas to spread over him more. 

He finally let himself relax, pressing one of his legs in between Jimmy's and resting one of his arms against the rest of Jimmy's chest after pulling the covers up. He closed his eyes and exhaled, warm and content against the other man. Thomas couldn't remember the last time he had been able to just _lie_ next to another man, not worrying about either rushing towards sex or clearing the scene of the crime afterwards. The fingers still running through his hair and the rise and fall of Jimmy's chest gave him something to focus on outside of his thoughts. It did not take long for sleep to consume him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment and any constructive criticism. Also, let me know if there are any spelling or grammatical errors I have missed - I've made a far more thorough job of editing this chapter but it is easy to miss things. Expect another chapter near the tail end of next month!


	3. Need Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have read, left kudos or commented on this work. It means a lot.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the third chapter!

_Pain. There were hands digging into his skin. Hands he didn't want. A burning that ached horribly. He had to get away-_

_"...Whore..."_

_That voice! It shouldn't be anywhere near him! He thought he was safe! He thought-_

"Thomas!" 

More hands – different hands, on his arm now. Thomas instinctively jerked away and opened his eyes. It was just a dream... He was still in Jimmy's bed, safely wrapped in sheets that smelled both familiar and unknown. Christ, he was in _Jimmy's_ bed, with the man himself crouched on the floor beside him. 

"Sorry for embarrassing myself," Thomas muttered. "Guess I'll be having nightmares again." He forced out a dry chuckle and sat up, blanket falling to pool at his waist. "Did I wake you?" 

"Don't be daft. _My_ nightmare woke me up, so I took the opportunity to go to the loo and cleared my head while I was at it." Jimmy moved to sit on the end of his bed, seemingly on a mission to catch Thomas' eyes. 

"Look at me," Jimmy pressed. "Please don’t feel like you can't." 

He sounded so sincere, but why was Jimmy bothering to be nice to him? If Thomas had learned anything in his life, it was that people were not nice to him unless it was for personal gain and, quite frankly, he felt like he had nothing left to give. 

"After all I've done to you, and everything you've seen done to me, why are you being so kind? I don't underst-" 

"Because I care about you, you idiot!" Jimmy snapped and Thomas jerked his head up in surprise, unintentionally giving Jimmy the eye contact he wanted. "We are friends, aren't we? I don't blame you for what happened, Thomas." 

"But last time-" Thomas tried to protest. 

"Last time O'Brien was messing with my head and, let's be honest, you were being a bit of a creep." 

Thomas couldn't argue with that – he hadn't been thinking straight at all when Jimmy had arrived at Downton. But who could blame him? He had never seen a man like Jimmy before. Even now, rumpled from sleep and eyes still weary with exhaustion, the man was the epitome of handsomeness. 

"And if I blame myself? Surely there was something I could have done differently to protect you." Thomas sighed and anxiously began to rub at the uncovered scar on his injured hand. 

"You did protect me," Jimmy insisted. "I wasn't as scared as I could have been and I have barely any marks, thanks to you." He reached across and clasped his fingers over the hand Thomas had been using to aggravate his scar, warily glancing at the door which was standing open. "You took control and guided me. Don't think I'm not grateful for that." 

Regardless of what Jimmy might believe, Thomas still felt like a cretin. He had taken advantage of the other's fear to act out his fantasies, he was sure of it. He could have just been entirely practical and perfunctory, making sure Jimmy wouldn't be unnecessarily hurt without letting any of his desire play a role. Everything he had done outside of the given orders was because he had wanted it. Thomas couldn't think of anything else, just kept going round in circles that there must have been something he could have done differently and live to tell the tale. He was as bad as Lord Tarnworth and damn fortunate that Jimmy had deluded himself to think otherwise. 

"Hey." Jimmy squeezed his hand, pulling Thomas out of that particular mental spiral. "It's weird seeing all these emotions on your face when it's usually so blank. I like it – I can see when you need to get out of your head." 

Jimmy's hand was still on his, comforting, warm and far too risky with the door open. Thomas pulled his hand free and made to push the blanket from his legs. 

"I should really be getting back to my room before anyone comes up. Best I'm not found in your bed." He stood and straightened as much of the cover as possible, given that Jimmy was sat on a good chunk of it. "Might do me some good to eat more of my breakfast." He was making excuses at this point, cautious that he might tarnish Jimmy's reputation further if he was found here after last night. 

"Wouldn't worry about appearances or rumours – that's why the door's open." Jimmy gestured to the unoccupied half of his bed. "Sit. I checked the time when I woke and hopefully someone will be coming up with lunch soon. Two friends chatting and eating lunch together is hardly anything to write home about." 

It was almost endearing how naïve Jimmy was. Thomas folded anyway and resumed his vacated spot, occasionally staring cautiously down the corridor. He hated to be taken by surprise. 

"Ugh, Thomas." Jimmy spoke quietly, uncharacteristically awkward. "When are we going to talk about what happened between just us? I keep thinking about it." 

Thinking what though? Disgust? Shame? Desire...? Thomas didn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss and Thomas was almost certain that Jimmy wanted to relay all his reasons as to why he reacted so enthusiastically to Thomas' touch. On top of the worry of having to face the family and the rest of his fellow servants soon, he knew he just couldn't deal with that right now. Selfish to the bitter end, that was Thomas. 

"Soon. I just can't right now. Not with..." 

"Not with what?" Jimmy frowned. 

"Not with the marks of another man so fresh on my body." Thomas rushed out, flushing slightly. Regardless of the inevitable negative outcome from whatever Jimmy wanted to say, he didn't want to talk about what they had done with these bruises on his body. If the false comfort and consent he received from their actions was all he would ever have from Jimmy, he was determined to equate that with what Lord Tarnworth did as little as possible. 

God, he wished he could stop thinking. 

"Of course." Jimmy looked away, Thomas assumed it was with discomfort. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. I don't know how to deal with..." He frowned again, thinking of how best to define Thomas. 

"A sullied man?" Thomas offered bitterly. 

"No," Jimmy glared. "Don't call yourself that. Forget it, I'm making an arse of myself. I'm just trying to figure out what to do with all I know now." 

"Nothing has changed for you. Go back to chasing the maids." Thomas couldn't stop the words, his jealousy far stronger than any good sense still hanging on. He just wasn't in control right now. 

"Are you stupid or just giving me an exit?" Jimmy seethed. "I can't just-. No, never mind. We'll talk about this later, like you want. I only-" 

But whatever Jimmy was going to say, Thomas would never know as the footman cut himself off at the sound of footsteps growing in the corridor. 

"Jimmy-. Oh, Thomas, you're here too!" Mrs Hughes stepped through the door, closely shadowed by Alfred. They both held trays laden with a decent lunch which were swiftly passed over to Thomas and Jimmy. Mrs Hughes settled in the vacant desk chair, drawing it closer to the bed, while Alfred leant against the doorframe. 

"I'd have thought I'd find you both sound asleep. Did neither of you sleep well?" She frowned. 

Thomas looked away and inspected his tray instead. A small pot of a watery meat stew, an apple and a cup of tea. He thought he'd be able to stomach that although his appetite wasn't nearly at its full potential. He abandoned Jimmy to hold conversation for the two of them 

"I think we slept alright until maybe half an hour ago. Mr Barrow and I thought we'd talk for a little bit instead of going back to sleep so close to lunch." Jimmy offered a small smile as he lifted his teacup to his lips, smooth and undoubtable as always. Thomas had always admired that. 

Jimmy turned his attention to Alfred while Thomas cautiously blew on a spoonful of the lightly steaming stew. He wondered if Jimmy was still trying to keep his earlier promise to talk in place of Thomas. 

"Sorry about the extra work, Alfred. You must be working up a right sweat," Jimmy jested. Alfred did look more worn out than usual, unsurprising considering both the under-butler and first footman were confined to their beds. 

"It's a bit tough, yeah, but I don't mind," he shrugged. "You both need your rest." Alfred's awkward smile was dripping in sympathy. He clearly meant well, yet all it did was remind Thomas that bland Alfred had seen him in one of the most vulnerable moments of his life. It scared him that someone had that knowledge as leverage over him. 

"Yes, you both must continue to rest for a while longer. Mr Carson has asked me to inform you both that his lordship wishes to speak with you after the dinner service. Make yourselves presentable, though you need not wear livery." Mrs Hughes nodded and rose from the chair. "We had best be off for our own luncheon." She departed, Alfred trailing behind her. 

The two of them sat in silence for a while and ate, allowing Thomas to slip back into his mental spiral. He thought he might have at least another day before having to face his lordship. It was going to be at least as bad as speaking with Mr Carson, he just knew it. 

"Are you okay?" Jimmy spoke softly but it still made Thomas jump and drop his spoon into his bowl. "Your hands are shaking and you look dead vacant. It's not like you." 

What did he know? Jimmy only saw his public persona, hadn't cared to see much else until now. Thomas hadn't realised he was shaking, but it didn't surprise him either. 

"Am I okay? What do you think, Jimmy?" He snapped and shoved his tray onto Jimmy's bedside table. "I'm terrified! His lordship will want a full account, I might lose my job and, even if I don't, how am I meant to look Mr Carson in the eye when he saw me...how he did. You keep acting like everything's fine and it's not. I'm sure you mean well but I need you to understand that I'm hurt and scared. I've been used so many times, kept so many secrets and now everything's out in the open. I don't want to deal with this." He hid his face in his hands as he felt the tears well up once again. Had he not cried enough yet? 

"I don't mean to sound naïve or anything, Thomas." Jimmy spoke calmly and Thomas heard the rattle of crockery as the other's tray was placed on the floor. "I'm just trying not to deal with this like how I did last time, though Lord knows I'm still saying the wrong things. Look, I'm sorry. I know that you're hurt in more ways than one and appreciate your privacy just as much as I do." 

The creak of the bedframe and a slight rustling were Thomas' only warnings before he felt a warm arm wrap around his back. He fought not to flinch away, reminding himself that Jimmy was safe. 

"I keep promising that I'll help you, no matter how I feel about all that happened, and I'll bloody well keep promising it until you believe me. Neither of us are alone." 

"You don't know what you want," Thomas mumbled through his hands. 

"I know well enough that I want to help you as you've been a good friend to me. As for anything else, we'll talk about that when you're ready, like we said. Tell me what you need." 

Thomas knew what he wanted in that moment and he was selfish enough to take it. Why not take advantage of Jimmy's generosity a while longer, before he came to his senses? He just wanted comfort and security, no different from when Jimmy had kissed him to calm his nerves. It couldn't make him any worse of a person at any rate. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and spoke so quietly Jimmy had to lean in to hear. 

"I... I need you. Will you hold me like you did when we lay together?" He fought to keep talking, remembering the confidence he had as he guided Jimmy the other night. "Talk to me about anything while I listen to you breathe, let me out of my head like you said before." 

There was a tense moment of silence where Thomas was certain he had asked too much. He was about to stand and leave when Jimmy finally spoke. 

"Course I will. I'll deny it if it gets out, but I've always slept better beside someone. Let me wedge that chair under the doorknob and set my alarm clock first." 

Thomas stood and offered a small smile. "Just need to use the bathroom – I'll try and be quick." 

\---

As Thomas slipped out, Jimmy rubbed hard at his eyes and groaned. Had he really just agreed to have the other man in his bed again? Jimmy was convinced he had never been so considerate for someone else in his life. He was still wrapping his head around comforting Thomas of all people who usually made it his life's ambition to act superior over as many as possible. The quiet and sad way Thomas behaved now was just unsettling and plain wrong. 

Jimmy heaved himself to his feet and reached for the alarm clock teetering dangerously on the edge of his bedside table, shoved aside by Thomas' luncheon tray. He set the alarm to ring a good hour before they would be expected before Lord Grantham and replaced it on the table, now taking up both Thomas' tray and his own to place them on top of the dresser. Pulling the thick blanket back, he settled himself on one side of the bed and stretched an arm across the pillow like before. 

Comical, almost, that he was developing a standard position for sharing the bed with Thomas. Mental, undoubtedly. No hint of regret though – Jimmy hadn't been lying when he said he found it comforting to sleep with another, and why should it matter that it was Thomas? 

Why indeed. 

He was anxious to have that talk with Thomas, though God only knew what would come of it. Jimmy wasn't entirely sure what outcome he wanted, realistically speaking. Nevertheless, he could still feel where Thomas had stretched him and, if he closed his eyes, he swore he was able to feel ghostlike impressions of anywhere else Thomas had touched. 

Jimmy forced himself from that particular train of thought at the first signs of arousal. He didn't want Thomas to come back in and see Jimmy rocking a hard-on what with everything being so precarious right now. Honestly, he couldn't believe how calm he was being about feeling aroused from the memory of being fucked by a man. No wonder Thomas was struggling to believe him! 

It wasn't like he'd had some sort of sexual epiphany that, hey, maybe he was a homosexual. No, Jimmy had known since Thomas was touching him in that room that he wouldn't be able to bear it with another man. Sure, there were probably men out there that he'd recognise as attractive but that sure as hell didn't mean Jimmy would be begging for their cocks. He wouldn't _trust_ anyone beside Thomas to have that much control over him. 

He sounded like a lovesick girl mulling over Thomas like he was! Jimmy couldn't help it though, not when the man in question was so interesting. Jimmy considered himself to be a pretty straightforward kind of bloke. He knew the right words to keep people interested and took a great deal of pride in his physical appearance. He had no problem saying exactly what he thought, a 'talent' that had caused equal amounts of trouble as it had brought girls to his side. 

Thomas, however, was something else. There were so many sides to him, some he was just discovering. Jimmy was familiar with Thomas the stoic servant, a perfect under-butler as far as Jimmy could tell, willing to offer assistance to either of the footmen, and even the hall boy, though any help would usually come at the price of a few snide marks made at their expense. He also knew Thomas the friend quite well, having spent many of his evenings playing cards and sharing sneaky drinks and cigarettes together in the servants hall. The man was rather easy to get along with when he wasn't being an arse. Back when Jimmy had first come to Downton, he'd had a glimpse of Thomas the lover and, truth be told, had been a little intimidated by how intense this unknown man was. Well, everyone knew how well Jimmy's first encounter with this side of Thomas had panned out. 

But then he met Thomas the lover again the other night. It was still intense, true enough, but so intoxicating. Thomas knew how to handle things, knew how to make Jimmy feel like he was drowning for all the right reasons. He'd never felt anything like it. 

And now he was faced with Thomas the victim, the side he hated the most. Jimmy could still see the agony and fear in Thomas' eyes when Lord Tarnworth raped him, could hear the sound of Thomas crying afterwards. Jimmy knew Thomas was somewhat of a sensitive soul beforehand, but now his confidence was gone and it was killing Jimmy to see how defeated the other man had become. He knew this was not a side often made public, despite all the shit thrown Thomas' way, so Jimmy had to protect him as much as possible from the others. 

He watched Thomas come back in and shut the door, watched how he moved slowly, not in his usual strides, not seizing the chair like he might normally. It was both a privilege and a shame to see this side, but part of Thomas all the same. 

"What took so long?" Jimmy asked as Thomas wedged the chair under the doorknob. "Is everything alright?" 

"Sorry, I just needed to have a quick smoke and a moment to myself." Thomas frowned and rubbed his scar again. "Not that I don't want to be here, of course," he rambled and Jimmy made himself smile. It was still so odd seeing Thomas unsure but he didn't want to put the other man off. 

"No offence taken. Well, maybe a little for not sharing your cigarette but we'll call it an IOU." He patted the mattress and threw Thomas one of his less predatory grins. 

"You're so generous, Jimmy. I've always admired that about you." 

Jimmy chuckled, satisfied that Thomas was sliding into their snarky banter again. Thomas settled onto the mattress and pulled the blanket around them like before, stretching half of his body across Jimmy's. Jimmy let his hand wander through the thick head of hair, enjoying the weight of the other man with only a hint of mental denial. 

"Your hair is surprisingly soft when it's not coated in that gunk," he mused, feeling what could only be a pleased hum come from Thomas. 

"Like you don't use as much 'gunk' as I do. I wouldn't get used to it – I'll be reapplying it when we go down later to see..." Thomas trailed off, the jovial mood fading out at the reminder that they had to face Lord Grantham in several hours. Jimmy felt Thomas shiver against him. 

"Tell me what you're thinking, Thomas." 

"That I don’t want anyone else, let alone Lord Grantham, knowing how I've sullied my reputation yet again. That you have to be associated with that now. Not that that's the worst part." 

It seemed pretty bad to Jimmy, not that he agreed with what Thomas was saying. 

"No, the worst part is knowing Lord Tarnworth will get away with it and do it again and again. I mean, I'm already damaged goods so I don't matter, but he could ruin someone with potential." 

Jimmy couldn’t listen to another word. Was this really what was going through Thomas' head? "First of all, what happened wasn't your fault. _At all_ ," he pressed as Thomas made to interrupt him. "Second, don't worry about me. There's nothing anyone here can say that I can't handle. Third, you aren't damaged goods. Terrible things have happened to you but they only make you stronger. Don't you see?" 

"No." 

How long had Thomas thought this way? Jimmy couldn't stand it. "Well I know it's true. And surely Lord Grantham will do _something._ " 

Thomas pushed himself up to look Jimmy in the eye. "Remember what I said before about you being naïve? Lord Grantham won't do a thing beyond 'offering his humblest apologies', and that's if we're lucky. Why would he risk causing a scandal for the sake of two servants? Don't be surprised if we're turned out of Downton by the end of the week." 

Jimmy desperately didn't want to believe that, though part of him knew Thomas was probably right about Lord Tarnworth. And wasn't that awful? Not privileged enough to be protected by the law. He raised his hand and placed it against Thomas' cheek, leaving the other plenty of time to pull away. "Whatever happens, I'll be right beside you." 

"You're being reckless." Thomas leant into Jimmy's touch. 

Maybe that was a little true but Jimmy wasn't a sheltered boy. He felt he knew what he was getting himself into. It was dangerous having Thomas this close to him, though. He was trying to behave and wait for Thomas to be ready to talk but the other wasn't making it easy, not with his lips so close to Jimmy's. 

"You can kiss me if you want to, Jimmy." Thomas spoke so softly that Jimmy thought he must have heard wrong. 

"What? But you said-" 

"I know," Thomas interrupted, leaning so close Jimmy could feel the other's warm breath ghosting over his lips. "But this isn't speaking, and I can trust you, right? Just don't grab at me or anything like that." 

Typical Thomas bending the rules. Still, Jimmy nodded and hummed in satisfaction as Thomas pressed their lips together. They kissed slowly, Jimmy letting Thomas guide as much as possible without lying there like a dead fish. He continued to stroke Thomas' cheek as the other gently teased Jimmy's tongue before backing off again. Yes, Jimmy was certain now that there was no one as good at kissing as Thomas. He wouldn't feel like he did from a kiss like this if it was anyone else. Well, he'd never _had_ a kiss like this. 

Jimmy reluctantly dropped his hand and broke away from Thomas' soft lips. "We have to stop. I'm...ugh..." Sporting a quickly growing erection would be the words he was looking for. Desperately picturing O'Brien in her undergarments turned out to be an effective way of killing it off, he discovered, as Thomas resituated himself along Jimmy's side. 

"I still think you're delusional," Thomas muttered. 

Jimmy huffed and rolled his eyes. "I know exactly what I want," he lied. Maybe not _exactly_ but that hardly mattered to him with his lips still tingling like they were. "You only need to know one thing." He shut his eyes and relaxed, still tired from all the broken sleep he'd had. 

"What's that?" Thomas yawned. 

"If you need me, I'll be there." 

If Thomas replied, Jimmy was too far gone into sleep to register it. 

\--- 

"What Mr Carson has informed me of, and what I have seen for myself, culminate in a series of rather serious accusations." Lord Grantham frowned, uncomfortable as always when dealing with an issue other than defending whichever poor fool had gotten in the way of the Dowager Countess. 

He and Jimmy had just arrived in the library, frogmarched in by Mr Carson, and this was the first thing his lordship had said to them. An attempt at being neutral, for sure, but Thomas knew better. The aristocracy stuck together and Lord Grantham was clearly looking to attack their 'accusations' regardless of any evidence, whatever that could be. What had Mr Carson told him? _How_ had he told it? It must have been emphasised how disgusting and shameful Thomas was, that he had asked for it, that he had coerced Jimmy into a sick game. 

That he was depraved. 

Lord Grantham paced back and forth in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. Thomas stood close to Jimmy with Mr Carson acting as some sort of bridge between both parties, the man torn between glancing anxiously at his lordship and glaring at the two causes of most of his stress. 

"The two of you claim that Lord Tarnworth, a guest in my own home, forced two of my servants to perform immoral acts together and then preceded to perform the same sort of act on one of you. And that this all occurred at gunpoint." 

"That is essentially what happened, my Lord," Jimmy confirmed. 

"Essentially?" Lord Grantham paused and narrowed his eyes. "What am I missing?" 

Jimmy cleared his throat and spoke admirably clearly. Thomas certainly couldn't have managed it. "Well, what happened between me and Mr Barrow wasn't consensual, what with the gun and all, but Lord Tarnworth was on a mission to hurt Mr Barrow as much as possible. I wouldn't compare the two, my Lord." 

"Do not be ridiculous, James," Mr Carson snapped. "My Lord, these are merely semantics." 

"You see no difference between the two acts, if we are to regard them separately, Carson? Despite the evidence and the statements?" Lord Grantham had finally given up pacing, thankfully. It was making Thomas anxious. 

But, for the life of him, Thomas couldn't think what this evidence was that the man kept referencing. What had Lord Tarnworth left behind other than Thomas and Jimmy? It must be obvious... 

Lord Grantham must have seen his confusion and seemed equally perplexed himself. "The bedsheets, Mr Barrow. There were significant blood stains among other..." He coughed awkwardly. "Substances. Not to mention the stark difference in how you act in comparison to James." 

The bedsheet! Thomas felt the sting of a blush spreading across his face. He couldn't believe Lord Grantham had seen that. He had thought Mr Carson would have had the sheet burned immediately to protect the sanctity of the upper class. And was Thomas truly acting so obvious that even Lord Grantham, notorious for being the last to notice anything, could see a change? 

"If we are speaking frankly, my Lord, I see no difference. Both acts were illegal, both shameful, both forced, loathe as I am to admit that a man with title could behave in such a way." Mr Carson stared ahead, avoiding all three sets of eyes. 

The same? The way he had felt touching Jimmy and how terrified he had been when Lord Tarnworth had touched him, one and the same? Thomas couldn't believe that, didn't want to listen to these two men debate the particulars of one of the worst nights of his life like it was a bloody cricket match. He had to get out of there. 

Thomas took several shaky steps back towards the door and wrapped his arms tightly across his chest. They were going to dismiss him, he just knew it. 

"Where do you think you are going, Mr Barrow?" Mr Carson drawled threateningly. 

"I-I have to leave," he stuttered. "You both think..." He stepped back further, so close to the door. 

"You may do no such thing until either myself or his lordship see fit to dismiss you," Mr Carson snapped, clearly only refraining from shouting because of his lordship. 

_Dismiss._

He was going to be thrown out on the streets for something he hadn't wanted. That was the way of it for people like him. Thomas made a break for freedom and ran for the door, his fingers inches from the doorknob when he felt two arms wrap around his middle, pulling him back against a firm chest. 

Thomas struggled feebly, too drained to put up a real fight. "Let me go," he pleaded. 

"Just breathe," Jimmy whispered. "My Lord, Mr Carson." He raised his voice, turning his head to avoid deafening Thomas. "Please can we have a moment?" 

They must have agreed but Thomas was too lost in his head to notice. He just wanted out but no one was listening to him. "Nobody cares what I want." 

"You're being ridiculous, Thomas. Getting yourself worked up over nothing." Jimmy's breath was warm in his ear but Thomas could draw no comfort from it. 

"It's not 'nothing'. They think I wanted it all – I _know_ they do. They're going to dismiss me! I knew that before I came in here but hearing them talk like that, like it's all trivial..." Thomas squeezed his eyes shut. 

"What are you on about?" The grip tightened around Thomas' stomach. "Didn't you hear Mr Carson admit that he thinks Lord Tarnworth forced you?" 

Thomas hadn't heard it like that. "He said 'both forced'. He thinks I forced you because I'm sick and depraved and-" 

"Shut up," Jimmy hissed. "It doesn't matter what he thinks – I know it wasn't your fault and I'll keep telling you. They aren't going to dismiss you-" 

"You don't know that!" He was so tired. He just wanted to sag against Jimmy but he couldn't. Not with those eyes on them. 

"I'll ask them then. And if they do, I'll leave with you, just like we said." 

"You keep helping me." Thomas lowered his voice. "If you want to fuck me, just do it. Asking nicely isn't necessary, remember?" He almost choked on the last word as Jimmy made his grip iron tight. 

"Don't say anything like that ever again." Jimmy practically snarled in his ear. "Christ, Thomas, you're more than just a hole." 

Thomas used to believe that too. 

"Look, we'll just get through the end of this conversation then we'll go upstairs and talk." 

"I'm tired of talking," Thomas sighed. 

"Then we'll sleep. Let me handle this, okay?" 

Thomas nodded, curling his arms back round himself as Jimmy's slipped away. He didn't have enough dignity left for the day to step away from the wall and face Mr Carson and Lord Grantham. 

Never mind the streets – they were going to send him to an asylum. 

\---

Jimmy could feel a headache brewing. He desperately needed to talk to Thomas more but he still had to deal with Mr Carson and Lord Grantham. And then they still had to deal with everybody else! He sighed and straightened his suit, taking one last glance of Thomas' back before turning round to face the music. Gone were the days of dodging extra work and successfully flirting with the maids being his biggest challenges of the day. 

"What the devil is wrong with him?" Lord Grantham seemed baffled by Thomas' behaviour if his frown was anything to go by. 

Mr Carson, on the other hand, looked as if he would have found Thomas spitting on his shoes less offensive. "This behaviour will not be tolerated, my Lord." He spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at Jimmy like it was his fault. "I will deal with Mr Barrow-" 

"Mr Carson, please understand!" This wasn't going right at all. "You saw how he was when you found us. He's just...fragile." 

"Nevertheless, I cannot have the servants of this house acting in such an uncouth manner, and before his lordship of all people! Mr Barrow." He raised his voice. "As sympathetic as I may be, this behaviour is intolerable and you will rectify it at your earliest convenience." 

Nobody made threats quite like Mr Carson. 

"If we could just have the evening to straighten things out," Jimmy pleaded. "It's all just so fresh in our minds and it's difficult for Mr Barrow to talk about." What else could he say? "I'm trying to help, Mr Carson, honest. I just need a little more time." 

Lord Grantham jumped in before Mr Carson had a chance to go off again. "Of course, take the evening. Carson and Alfred can handle dinner, seeing as we have no guests. A few days and it will be as if all this never happened." He smiled in what Jimmy assumed was meant to be an encouraging way yet all he felt was confusion. 

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Was he suggesting...? Was Thomas _right_? 

Lord Grantham shifted uncomfortably. "Well, we can hardly press charges against the man, given all his influences. You may not be aware, James, but Lord Tarnworth has friends in very high places. Both you and Mr Barrow would be dragged through the mud if the police became involved. And-" He lowered his voice. "Do you really want anyone else knowing about all this?" 

"No." Jimmy's tone was flat, his frustration brewing just below the surface. This was the privilege of the upper class, then. They could mess with whoever was beneath them, do whatever they liked, safe in the knowledge that they were untouchable. That those like them might even help to clean up the mess left behind to avoid the 'taint' of the victim's shame. Jimmy had seen the unfairness of this his whole life but now he was furious. Did the upper class even see those who worked hard for their money as real people? Did Thomas not deserve justice? 

Didn't they at least deserve an apology from Lord Grantham for letting a man like that into his home? 

"Have your evening then, and I will see you both back to work in the morning." His lordship dismissed them, and with a stiff nod from Mr Carson, Jimmy turned back to Thomas who was already halfway out the door. 

Jimmy hurried after him, just managing to catch up as the other slipped through the disguised servants door. 

"Slow down, will you?" He made a grab for Thomas' shoulder. 

"Don't touch me!" Thomas whipped round and shoved Jimmy back. His hands were shaking and the panic in his wide eyes rooted Jimmy to the spot. "I-I told you not to grab at me and you keep doing it. Why aren't you listening? I _told_ you-" 

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Jimmy backed away, hands raised to show he wouldn't make a move for the other again. "Just calm down, alright? Take a few breaths and we'll go upstairs." He felt like he was dealing with an unexploded shell – one wrong move, even a little one, and it could go off. 

Thomas ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Jimmy," he began, their eyes briefly meeting before Thomas looked away again. "You mean well and I'd be a fool to push you away now you're interested, I know that. But I can't do this right now. I've tried and with everything going on – out here and in my head – I just _can't_. No," he pressed, somehow seeing Jimmy open his mouth to speak despite not looking at him. "Let me say my piece." 

Jimmy nodded, trying to look reassuring though he felt sick to his stomach. 

"I have to clear my head and I can't do that with you in it, Jimmy. If I'm to keep this job I've got to sort myself out – Mr Carson's already itching to be shot of me. All I need is time alone to think-" 

"But I thought you wanted to get out of your head," Jimmy protested. "Isn't it better to talk to someone?" 

"Not you. Not with how I feel. You're far more caring than you ever were to me and it makes me wonder if that's because Lord Tarnworth messed with your head. When you touch me, is it him pulling the strings? I want to believe that's not true but even you don't know what you want and I can't guide you through your personal crisis while I'm going through my own." 

How could Thomas think that? It _wasn't_ true. 

"Jimmy I need you to promise that you'll avoid me at all costs." Thomas' tone was flat yet his face hinted that this was at least as hard for him to say as it was for Jimmy to hear. "Don't speak to me unless it's work related. Don't try to be alone with me unless it's work related. Don't even look at me. If you hear me crying or anything like that just walk away. This is for your benefit too. Do you promise then?" Thomas looked up and Jimmy was certain he could see the shine of unshed tears. 

"Thomas please-" 

" _Do you promise_?"

Jimmy nodded, shoulders sagging in defeat. There was nothing to be done once the other made his mind up about something. 

He watched Thomas walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Update 19.08.16: Still working on the next chapter! It's just been a very busy month for me so far.


	4. Hear Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay to those currently following Until I Can't Breathe. I've had a busy couple months but chapter four is finally here so please enjoy. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos so far.

More than a month had gone by since Jimmy had watched Thomas walk away from him. More than a month and they hadn't shared a knowing glance, like they used to _all_ the time, or had any sort of conversation beyond "please pass that cloth." And, though Jimmy thought he was doing an admirable job of hiding it, all things considered, it was killing him. He wanted nothing more than for the other man to give him a half smile, look his way for longer than a second – oh, anything! 

Jimmy wasn't stupid – he knew he thrived on attention – but the effect Thomas ignoring him was causing just seemed insane. Considering Jimmy had done almost the same thing to Thomas after their first incident, he had thought he'd be able to handle it the second time. But, damn it all, he couldn't! Things were different now and it was impossible to block Thomas from his mind like before. Christ, it was all he thought about and, sooner or later, he would lose the plot entirely. 

"Think it's already dead, Jimmy." 

The sound of Daisy's voice jerked him out of his self-pity and he saw that many of the other servants were staring at him, along with the shredded mess he had apparently turned his sausages into, with varying degrees of amusement and concern. Thomas wasn't looking at him though. Of course he wasn't. 

Jimmy sighed and offered Daisy a small smile. "Sorry, just got a bit distracted." He hoped that would be the end of it but apparently he'd finally burst the bubble of tension that had been growing since Thomas and Jimmy had begun to work again. 

Anna frowned at him and Jimmy knew he was in for it now if she was concerned. Jimmy thought she generally meant well enough, but he remembered that Thomas was convinced she was just nosey, a habit she'd picked up from Lady Mary. 

"You've been 'distracted' for the last month or so. You would tell us if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" Anna pressed and Jimmy nodded, imagining how comical it would be to blurt out to the table exactly what was troubling him. 

She turned her eyes to Alfred. "You've noticed the difference, I'm sure of it." 

"Difference in what?" Alfred practically stuttered out. Jimmy admired Anna's tactic in going after Alfred, the obvious weak link in the chain of people that might have an inkling of what was wrong. 

"In how Jimmy and Mr Barrow are behaving! I'm not blind – they were right pally with each other up until a few weeks ago and then it suddenly stopped. You must know _something_." 

"I'm sure I don't know anything about it." Oh, but Alfred knew a great deal, enough to make things rather awkward, and he was doing a shoddy job at hiding it, given the red creeping over his face and the way he was avoiding Anna's eyes. "At any rate," Alfred continued. "It's none of my business." 

"Precisely," Thomas spoke in a low voice and all eyes turned to him. "Leave it alone, Anna. There's nothing to worry about. Jimmy and I are perfectly content in our working relationship." 

That was the most Thomas had spoken in a social setting in weeks and it was all a load of rubbish. All _lies_. Jimmy couldn't have been less content if he'd tried! He sullenly went back to savaging his sausage. 

"That is quite enough on the subject." Carson's rumble effectively closed Anna's mouth and blocked her attempt to pry more from Thomas. "Mr Barrow, James, you will present yourselves in my office once the table is cleared." 

Perfect. He wanted to get as far away as possible from all of them – especially Thomas – as soon as he could and now he was stuck. Jimmy remembered how, probably for the first week or so, he'd looked forward to seeing Thomas even if the other never looked his way. He figured it meant Thomas was hanging on if he came down every morning, that he was sorting himself out like he said. And then, as the days continued to pass, the hope Jimmy held that Thomas would notice him seemed to die out. Part of Jimmy could barely stand the sight of Thomas anymore, certain that he wouldn't find what he wanted from the other, yet another was still drawn to him. Still held onto the dream that Thomas might want him again. 

He felt like he was giving Alfred serious competition for how much a bloke could moon after someone that seemingly didn't give a damn. And, the way Jimmy saw it, Ivy was far more likely to wake up tomorrow and profess her undying love for Alfred than Thomas would for Jimmy. So who was the fool now? 

Jimmy looked up at Alfred who had nearly finished wolfing his dinner down. His fellow footman had not been acting at all like Jimmy thought he might. Nothing like how he had after he'd caught Thomas all those months ago. Maybe it was because Alfred realised how different the situation was this time. He'd seen the state Thomas was in with his own eyes – had helped him, even. He might have figured that this was just too messy for him to barge through with his 'morals'. 

But, no, it was more than that. Jimmy had to give him credit for how quietly helpful he'd been while they were working and that he'd not made any snide remarks. And there were those times Alfred had caught him sat outside Thomas' room in the middle of the night... 

Not that Jimmy was acting peculiar, obviously. Thomas had been very specific in making Jimmy promise not to go to him if he heard any sort of crying and Jimmy hadn't been entirely able to keep that promise. His room being fairly close to Thomas', he'd need more than one hand to count how many times he had woken up to hear sobbing or some other sound like that. Never mind it being uncomfortable hearing any man cry, it being Thomas made it unbearable. So Jimmy had found himself crouched by the other's door, just being nearby making it easier to stand the noise for whatever reason. And, because Jimmy seemed to have the worst luck going at the moment, Alfred had seen him at it. 

But he hadn't said anything! Hadn't even sniggered, which would be the least Jimmy'd do if he saw Alfred pressed to the door leading to the women's rooms (because Alfred would never be upset enough to break one of Carson's rules and go through that door). If Thomas had woken him up, Alfred would just stick his head out the door, spot Jimmy at his post and go straight back to bed. It definitely helped not having to worry about Alfred being an arse about things but Jimmy would be lying if he said it didn't make him a little suspicious. He was half convinced that the other footman was writing everything odd he saw in a little notebook and was waiting for the prime time to rat them, or rather _Jimmy_ , out to Carson. 

Not that Jimmy should be wasting time on Alfred when he had at least half the staff trying to pry into his personal business and Carson breathing down his neck even without Alfred being an informant. In the time he'd spent mulling over Alfred, nearly all of the servants had left the table, leaving Ivy and one of the other maids free to clear around him. Thomas was long gone, probably out having a smoke. 

He sighed and pushed his plate of mauled food away, no longer even bothered to keep up the pretence of acting normally. He'd already been caught out, hadn't he? As Jimmy reached for his lukewarm cup of tea, he spied Carson giving him a pointed look out of the corner of his eye. 

"I expect to find you outside my office in no longer than three minutes time," Carson ordered as he left the hall. 

Well, Jimmy expected to be treated better than a petulant child but there was no chance of that in this house. And this telling off would in no way improve his situation with Thomas. He barely stopped himself from jumping out of his seat when Ivy pressed her hand into his shoulder from behind. 

"Are you sure you're alright, Jimmy? Daisy was saying you were acting right peculiar, not eating properly or anything." She gestured to the evidence on his plate. 

Jimmy shrugged off the hand and downed the last of his tea before standing. 

"Nothing to bother yourself with, Ivy. I'm just tired is all." He just didn't want anyone else prying, is all. Jimmy could feel a headache brewing. 

He straightened his livery out as he shuffled off to the office. May as well give Carson one less thing to grumble about. Just as he was within inches of the door, Thomas swooped in front of him and rapped lightly on the wood. 

Was Jimmy allowed to be annoyed that Thomas didn't acknowledge him at all? 

"Come in." Ah, the familiar bellow beckoned. How could he resist? 

Thomas opened the door and Jimmy swiftly shut it behind them, both taking a seat in one of the vacant chairs before the butler's desk. There was something significant in seats being put out rather than being made to stand in front of Carson. Thomas'd know – he seemed to get off on little details like that. 

Carson cleared his throat and leant back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. This all seemed too casual for them to be getting the sack but you never could tell with Carson. Jimmy was at a complete loss. 

"Gentlemen," Carson began, and Jimmy swore he saw Thomas' posture stiffen up even more. "It has become abundantly clear to both myself and Mrs Hughes that, since the incident which occurred the previous month, the atmosphere between yourselves has become markedly...shall we say 'icy'. I believe this is now having a negative effect on the working environment, this being something I am no longer able to ignore." 

"I'm sorry Mr Carson, but how would you suggest we act after what happened?" Thomas challenged. "I understand that this has disrupted the organisation of your household and that you don't particularly care for either of us but...something like that...it's not easy to get over." He trailed off and looked away with a frown. Carson looked less than impressed. 

"I think what Mr Barrow is trying to say, Mr Carson, is that we're both trying our best." Jimmy attempted to save the conversation from turning sour. 

Carson huffed. "Yes, well, despite my dislike of the way both of you have comported yourselves in the past, that does not translate to a complete lack of care. I am rather sympathetic to your plight gentlemen. Particularly you, James, as you have made clear in the past how you do not care for such immoral behaviour." 

No, this _really_ wasn't going to further his cause with Thomas. 

"Nevertheless, I cannot suffer any disturbances to the staff, particularly something which could occupy their minds and cause their work to suffer. While I would normally make a point of separating myself from the goings on of my staff, I find it impossible to do so in this case. Beyond that, you are both disturbing the family." 

"The family?" Jimmy enquired. Bloody hell, they really were in trouble if the precious family had been 'disturbed'! 

"Need I remind you that on that particular morning we crossed paths with Mr Branson? He has expressed concern on several occasions which, in turn, has lead to the growing concern of the rest of the family, especially his lordship who no doubt has more pressing matters to think of than his servants. Even the Dowager has enquired!" Carson sounded like it was the end of the world. 

Jimmy frowned. He really hadn't thought they'd been acting that differently. Sure they didn't chat anymore but that was downstairs. That the family noticed anything, when they were usually absorbed in their own little problems, was really telling. And what did Carson expect them to do about it? 

Carson sighed and spoke ever so slightly calmer. "Both of you are part of the most visible members of staff, and it is a duty I take seriously that we cause neither disturbance nor disgrace to the family. As such, as I have no desire to dismiss either of you at present, I have made the decision to step in. Mrs Hughes and I agree that the pair of you need to resolve the issues you have between yourselves and, as this is perhaps a sensitive subject, it would be best achieved outside of the abbey. Therefore, tomorrow you will find yourselves on the road to Thirsk. There are several packages which the family need collecting as well as a number of errands myself, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore need completing. You will leave following the breakfast service and return before I lock the door for the night. I suggest you use the time wisely or I will be forced to consider other options. Dismissed." 

Jimmy rose from his chair and left as if in a daze, already halfway up the stairs to his room before he even noticed. Thomas was nowhere to be seen of course, probably out smoking again. He closed his bedroom door behind him and collapsed onto his bed to review what on earth had just happened. 

Had Carson finally lost the plot? He was definitely the most unlikely ally Jimmy could think of in his mission to get back in Thomas' good books. Jimmy couldn't have planned this better himself - a whole day to get a reaction out of Thomas without scaring him off. It was six miles to Thirsk and six back, plenty of time to wear the other down, not to mention the time it would take to carry out all those jobs. 

He would have to make his case and prove that he was serious. Thomas didn't come across as the casual type and Jimmy's track record of casual affairs had to be putting him off a bit. Not to mention Jimmy had never looked at a bloke in that way before. But he knew what he wanted and he'd had enough bloody time to be sure about it. Whether Thomas liked it or not, he was going to hear Jimmy out. 

\---

To say that Thomas was not in the best of moods that morning would have been an understatement. He'd barely gotten a wink of sleep last night – not that that was out of the ordinary these days – and would have gladly chosen to clean out the horses than go into Thirsk. He rubbed his eyes and checked his hair one last time before he headed downstairs to notify Mr Carson that he was off and to collect his travelling companion. 

Jimmy had been trying to catch his eye throughout the breakfast service, something he hadn't done for weeks, but Thomas had steadfastly avoided it. It might have been a long time, the bruises might have faded, but Thomas still had no desire to deal with that side of the mess Lord Tarnworth had created. It was too complicated and – no – he wasn’t going to go there. 

"Well, don't you look dashing!" Mrs Hughes smiled as they crossed paths at the foot of the stairs. "Off to Thirsk then?" 

Thomas glanced down at his suit. It was an older one but among his favourites regardless. He had been told on more than one occasion how flattering the cut was. He offered Mrs Hughes a small smile. The woman had been incredibly kind and patient with him and, much as he would like to claim that he didn't need anybody, he often found himself grateful for the support. She was the only one he'd willingly spoken more than a few words to because she didn't seem to _expect_ anything from him. 

"Thank you. Yes, we should be off as soon as I've seen Mr Carson. Is there anything else you need in Thirsk?" 

"Kind of you to ask but no thank you. You'll find Mr Carson in the kitchen, I believe, running James through your duties one last time. Enjoy your day." She walked up the stairs, touching him briefly on the arm as she passed. 

He could hear the butler's voice booming over the noise of the kitchen the closer he got. Not even Mrs Patmore berating Ivy over some nonsense to do with pastry managed to drown out the lecture Mr Carson was currently giving Jimmy on the correct manner to treat the family's packages. As if they hadn't made a dozen such runs already. 

"-and for heavens sake don't let a single one of her Ladyship's packages out of your sight!" 

It sounded like he'd arrived at the tail end of the speech, a small stroke of luck in what he was certain would not be an enjoyable day. The butler narrowed his eyes at Thomas as soon as he spotted him. 

"I trust I do not need to remind both of you of what was discussed last night?" 

"Of course not, Mr Carson," Thomas answered softly, his frustration from yesterday having been replaced by resignation. 

"Then I shall leave this in your capable hands." Mr Carson handed Thomas the unnecessarily detailed list and gave them leave to go. To Thomas' ears, the butler's use of 'capable' sounded more like a threat than a compliment. 

Without further ado, Thomas took off down the corridor, pressing his hat firmly down on his head as soon as he stepped outside lest the wind ruin his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jimmy struggle to jam his flat cap on with his arms weighed down by a modest picnic basket and the handle of a small wooden cart they had been leant for the trip. Thomas was quite happy to pull rank and leave Jimmy to do the carrying – he'd done his fair share over the years. 

It was just shy of 10 o'clock when they left the kitchen and Thomas was determined to reach Thirsk by noon. He was likewise determined to avoid any and all conversation with Jimmy that did not involve their work, Mr Carson be damned. Consequently, he maintained a gap of at least five feet between himself and the other man and kept a brisk pace. 

Being the middle of nowhere, the route Thomas took didn't often include the easiest paths for Jimmy to guide the cart along. More than once he heard Jimmy grumble that Thomas was being difficult on purpose but that was all. He didn't chatter on as he used to or try to catch up to Thomas, just trundled along. 

For that Thomas was grateful but he wasn't daft. Jimmy had lasted this long doing as Thomas had asked but he was far too much of an opportunist to let a situation like this go to waste. And even if Thomas tried to call him out on it – which he would – the other could use what Mr Carson wanted them to do as a defence. Before they returned to Downton something would have changed. He just wasn't sure in what way. 

Just under half a mile shy of Thirsk, Jimmy abandoned the cart and set the basket down. They were on the edge of an open field and it was approaching midday. Despite the land being relatively open, the breeze wasn't particularly strong. 

"We should stop here for lunch. There won't be anywhere near as good in Thirsk." Jimmy sat down and opened up the basket to reveal the generous lunch Daisy or Ivy prepared for them. 

Thomas nodded and sat himself on the opposite side of the basket, happy to accept the sandwich Jimmy handed him. There wasn't much farther to go and better to get lunch out of the way. He poured himself a cup of water from one of the flasks to wash down the sandwich and gulped it down contentedly. The walking pace they'd kept was thirsty work, for sure. Yes, this was far more relaxing than his usual day of work. 

"Thomas, we need to talk." 

And there went his peace. Thomas glanced briefly at Jimmy who was attempting to bore holes with his eyes and looked away again. 

"I have nothing to say and you don't really know what you want to say," he said dismissively, hoping to cut the conversation before it started. 

"What? I've had plenty of time to think while I was doing what you asked me and it can't wait any longer. I'm not expecting anything from you, you know. I just want you to hear me." Jimmy implored 

Thomas nodded for Jimmy to continue for what else could he do? He didn't want to talk about _this_ or _them_ the way Jimmy had been desperate to since it happened. He didn't want Jimmy to know that he hadn't gotten any better, that he was weak. 

"Last time we properly spoke you told me that I didn't know what I wanted and that really annoyed me, you know. You weren't for believing me because it was all so fresh and you didn't think I was sincere. But now I'm certain that what I felt then-" 

"Nothing has changed," Thomas interrupted. "We shared something intense in a stressful situation and now, at best, you're going through some sort of phase. You'd never even looked at a bloke before me – in fact you shunned me the most." He set his eyes on Jimmy's and gathered his courage. "I will not be the experimental fling of a young man." 

Jimmy looked taken aback but what did he expect Thomas to say? 'Take me, Jimmy, I'm yours?' In his dreams. 

"We've already talked about this and I don't know what else there is to say. I was scared of all that because it wasn't familiar but now I know." Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. "I'd never treat you like some girl by just throwing you away – I know you and you mean an awful lot to me, since way before all this. I want to help you and I want to _be_ with you. There isn't anyone like you." He reached over the basket as if to put his hand on Thomas' own but seemed to think better of it. 

"You don't want someone like me. I'm damaged goods – you just recognised that yourself." He looked away again. It hurt to see Jimmy and all that he offered being dangled in front of him, knowing that he couldn't really have it. "You stopped yourself from touching my hand just then. I must be foul after all..." He recalled the word Mr Carson had used and remembered wistfully how he had denied its use before. Now it rang truer than ever. 

He jumped as he felt a warm hand press down over his cold pair. Without him noticing, Jimmy had moved to sit right beside him, mere inches now between the pair. 

"I didn't want to make you jump. I'm not completely dense, you know." Jimmy offered a smile and Thomas fought desperately not to lean into the other man. It was all nonsense. "Thomas." Jimmy tightened his grip for a moment. "Don't you want me?" 

More than words could say. A few months ago he would have given anything to hear Jimmy say these words to him. Sure, he was already damaged but he'd had a handle on it whereas now he had anything but. He was desperate to have a lover and companion, to have Jimmy, but the thought of letting anyone touch him like that scared him. He could still feel that man's hands on him all the time, awake or asleep. 

"I don't want to be hurt again. You just want to get your revenge and fuck me so you feel like a man again. Isn't that right? Just do it right here and we can be on our separate ways." That was what other men wanted from him – what he could give with his body and nothing else. Why should Jimmy be any different just because they were friends before? 

"I..." Jimmy seemed lost for words. "I won't deny that I want to be with you like that but I'm more than happy to let you have me because I trust you. Hell, I'd be happy if you just let me kiss you. But it's not just about that and you know it, Thomas. You've been the only one that's kept me sane at Downton, the only one I need." 

"And what about Ivy?" He was clutching at straws, so desperate to believe that Jimmy was genuine yet so convinced that he was not. 

"I've barely talked to her since what happened and I don't plan on flirting with her again. You might think differently, but I know what I want and that's you. Do you still trust me?" 

Thomas nodded and watched Jimmy inch closer. He was still wary but he knew that Jimmy would never physically hurt him. 

Jimmy spoke in a low voice and his breath tickled Thomas' ear, he was so close. "I want to touch you and you to touch me. I want to feel your body on mine, see that pale skin. I think about you constantly. No one's ever made me feel how you do. You deserve someone that isn't as selfish as me but maybe we can make each other better." 

"Do you know what you're asking for, Jimmy? You want an illegal relationship with a man who's not whole. See sense that it's not worth it," he begged, eyes burning with unshed tears from the stress. 

"You are." Jimmy slowly moved his hand to Thomas' cheek and guided his head so that there noses were almost touching. 

Thomas trembled slightly but he didn't pull away. Scared as he was, he kept looking into Jimmy's eyes, everything the other had said running through his head. Thomas had been so adamant that he wouldn't let Jimmy sway him yet had underestimated how persuasive the other could be and how much he wanted this. He was setting himself up for a fall but, staring into those eyes, he just couldn't bring himself to care. What was one more heartbreak? 

He let his eyes shut as Jimmy closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together. They kissed slowly for a moment and as Jimmy made to pull away Thomas found himself lightly holding the back of the other's head to keep him in place. He had forgotten how good it felt. 

It was with the greatest reluctance that they parted but moved to lean against each other, hands entwined between them. When Jimmy eventually left him, Thomas would remember this kiss fondly. He was determined to remember all of these moments to last him through the rest of his solitary life. 

"You still think I'm going to abandon you, don't you?" 

Was Jimmy some sort of clairvoyant? 

"Yes," Thomas confessed. "You'll see soon enough how unbearable it is to be around me and I'll wave you off." 

"Just so you know, I'm going to prove you wrong." Jimmy pressed a kiss to Thomas' cheek and stood up, pulling Thomas to his feet as well. "Best get into Thirsk then." 

They repacked the basket and continued on, eating the remainder of their lunch, a sweet bun each, on the way. This time, Thomas walked beside the other and was grateful yet again for the lack of conversation. Jimmy seemed to understand not to push him too far too soon which was something at least. 

It should have taken them no more than an hour to collect all of the items but, as was typical with high-end stores, they were dragging their feet preparing the packages as they hadn't been personally visited by their titled customers. Thomas would be the first to admit that he had often thought himself above certain people, but surely there was a limit? The hatter in particular had looked like they had just spat in his face when they told him that the Countess was not present for this particular order. They were swiftly informed that the package would not be ready for at least an hour and were glared out of the shop. 

All in all, it took more than three hours before the cart was fully loaded with all of the family's parcels, Thomas himself carrying the smaller package of requested items for the other servants. By the point they were on the road to Downton, Thomas was convinced that cleaning every single window in the abbey would have been a less tedious job than dealing with the Thirsk merchants. The Ripon lot were far more reasonable. 

Jimmy walked close by Thomas' side, leaving just enough space so that they never quite touched. He could see the younger man sneaking glances at him every now and again, obviously thinking he was being subtle about it. Thomas was hard-pressed not to grin each time he noticed. 

"Not feeling chatty?" Thomas teased. Now he wasn't quite so afraid of what was going to come out of Jimmy's mouth, his curiosity had been growing. Jimmy was never silent for lack of something to say, that was for sure. He watched an unmistakable blush creep across Jimmy's face in the low light. 

"Just thinking." He shrugged. 

As if Thomas had ever been put off that easily, messed up or not. 

"About what?" Thomas pushed on Jimmy's arm with his own. 

"I, ugh, don’t think you want to know. You might not want to hear it right now." Jimmy trailed off, blush growing even darker. 

Thomas was more than interested in what Jimmy's imagination had concocted. It was only theory – he'd worry about the practical when he came to it. "How you trick the ladies into believing you're a skilled lothario with a blush like that is beyond me." 

"A lothario! Oh shut up, Thomas," Jimmy laughed. "How can I help the effect an older charmer like you has on me? If anyone's the 'lothario' here, it's _you_." 

He hadn't realised just how much he'd missed talking so freely with Jimmy. It was comforting to slip back into familiar habits, albeit with a far more flirty tone. Thomas was determined to appreciate these moments just that much more. He was also determined to know just what had Jimmy blushing like a virgin. 

"So tell me," Thomas urged. "I'll tell you to stop if it's too much." 

Jimmy sighed in defeat, sneaking one last glance at Thomas. "I was just thinking about what I'd do with you if I had you all to myself behind a closed door." 

"And what would you do?" 

"I'd kiss you because I've never met someone who kisses like you do. My hands would be in your hair, we'd be pressed together." 

Jimmy was building quite the scene. Thomas had been half-convinced the other would say he'd bend Thomas over his dresser and fuck him until he couldn't see straight, but maybe that was coming. 

"Would we be naked?" Thomas asked, an obvious question but he wanted to be certain that Jimmy wasn't thinking of some girl. 

"Damn right we would. It felt so good when you were pressed against me." The blush made a re-appearance, brighter than ever. "I'd want you to... Never mind." Jimmy trailed off. 

"Are you uncomfortable?" Thomas frowned. He by no means wanted to pressure Jimmy but if he couldn't even talk about it... "You've told me all sorts of things when you've struck lucky with a girl," he couldn’t help but point out. 

"No-I-this is different," Jimmy snapped. "I tell you stuff after it happens but you're right here. I..." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I'd want you to hold me down or push me wherever you wanted me to be because I don't have to be in charge. Your mouth would be on my cock and I'd be fighting not to scream your name. You'd take care of me." 

A man like Jimmy wanted to be controlled... Thomas would be more than happy to comply as long as Jimmy didn't want to return the favour any time soon. Just the thought of no escape was making him queasy so he refocused on Jimmy's vision. 

"Would you touch me?" He hadn't meant for that to come out so quietly, hadn't meant to voice silly fears that Jimmy wouldn't want to reciprocate without being ordered. Or he'd be too afraid of upsetting Thomas who, by his own admittance, had unpredictable reactions at best these days. 

"You might have to be patient with me while I learn but yes I want to touch you." Jimmy made a point of linking their free hands together, fingers slack enough for Thomas to easily pull away if he wanted. They were certainly taking advantage of their route being clear of passers-by today. "Why wouldn't I touch you like that? I noticed you were a good-looking bloke long before I wanted to hop into bed with you. Didn't expect you to be so intimidating though," he grinned. 

"Intimidating?" 

Jimmy nodded. "Don't you remember when you backed me up against the wall? I _swear_ you were prowling, Thomas! God, you were suddenly everywhere all at once. You knew what you were doing." He gave Thomas' hand a gentle squeeze. 

Logically, Thomas knew all this should be spurring him on, confident in knowing that Jimmy wanted him and yet he felt anything but. He was sick of his mind twisting every little thing Jimmy said to point out all of Thomas' many flaws. And this was one he was particularly worried about. 

"I don't think I'm the same man anymore, Jimmy. That man had already been damaged but he'd pretty much come to terms with it. But I... I'm ruined. I don't know that I have the confidence anymore. How can anyone be confident after being kicked down so thoroughly?" If the threat of hard labour wouldn't make Jimmy run for the hills, Thomas' pity party for one would do the trick. 

"You aren't ruined." Jimmy frowned. "Maybe I don't fully understand but I never expected you to snap back to how you were before. I know you're hurt-" 

""Hurt?" Thomas laughed hollowly. "I can't even stand to look at myself naked anymore. _That's_ how much he's got into my head." Thomas squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he felt himself well up. He would not cry. 

Jimmy was silent for a good while and Thomas was about to slip his hand free of the other's grip, sure that Jimmy was done, when he spoke again. "What about seeing me naked?" 

Jimmy spoke so quietly Thomas had to ask him to repeat himself. "Come again?" 

"Could you stand to look at me naked? If you were fully-clothed and it was just me?" 

"I... Perhaps? Why would you even...?" Thomas didn't know what to make of Jimmy half the time. 

"Well, we'd be together and you could do whatever you wanted. You’d be in charge, entirely up to you if you undress me or not. No expectations on my part. Maybe it'll make you feel more confident, more safe, setting the pace and all that." Jimmy shrugged nonchalantly, barely a blush on him that time. 

Thomas didn't really know how to respond. Why was Jimmy being so selfless? Well, as selfless as a man can be where there's a chance of getting off. 

"Do you think you're that patient, Jimmy? You might try this, thinking you're going to get more than I can give and walk away with just a kiss." 

"Fine by me. You've never been kissed by you before," Jimmy teased, going so far as to swing their joined hands like children before bursting into laughter at the mock-horrified look Thomas was giving him. "Honestly, though. Tell me a day and I'll show up at your door, wearing my best robe, ready to do whatever you want. I trust you, remember? Nothing's changed." 

Thomas knew he'd be a fool not to give it a go. He didn't think he was entirely ready for anything like this, even with Jimmy, but what if Jimmy had gotten tired of waiting by the time Thomas was ready? He'd never forgive himself if he let an opportunity like this slip. 

"Tonight," Thomas declared. 

" _Tonight_?" Jimmy stopped dead, consequently tugging Thomas to a standstill with his hand. 

"If you'd rather not..." Thomas mumbled, feeling himself blush of all things. 

Jimmy began walking again and Thomas swore the other had picked up the pace. "If you want me tonight, I'll be there." 

Thomas would be hard-pressed to tell anyone a night he didn't want Jimmy. 

\---

Jimmy had fully expected things not to go to plan today and Thomas had not disappointed him. He'd had imagined scenarios ranging from Thomas completely ignoring him to screaming in his face. He'd even half-heartedly pictured Thomas listening to him, kissing him, smiling. He had not, however, imagined any sort of scenario that would end up with him getting ready to essentially surrender himself to Thomas for the night. It was absolutely crackers – he'd already pinched himself several times to check if he was dreaming. 

They'd barely talked for the rest of the walk back to Downton, a comfortable tension of anticipation buzzing between them. If he was being honest, Jimmy barely remembered anything in great detail after he and Thomas had gone their separate ways for the last few hours of the working day once they were back at Downton. While he cleaned the silverware with Alfred – a task Carson had deemed acceptable to keep Jimmy out of sight and not offend the family with his lack of livery or some other nonsense – Jimmy ran through the two major conversations he'd had with Thomas that day. The earlier one where he had practically poured his heart out like a love-sick girl and the last one where Thomas had encouraged him to say a whole manner of things. He grinned at the memory, ignoring Alfred's questioning glances. If Jimmy'd said half the filth Thomas had gotten out of him to a woman, his face would have been slapped raw. 

As soon as their work had been giving a begrudging nod of approval by Carson, Jimmy shot off up to the servants' quarters to take advantage of the bathroom which was typically empty at that point in the evening. He wanted to wash his hair and wipe off the grime of the day. As far as he was concerned, this sort of preparation was no different than if Jimmy was looking to pick a girl up in a pub – a well-groomed man never fails to leave a good impression. And Jimmy hadn't failed yet. 

He locked the bathroom door behind himself and twisted the right tap of the sink on before grabbing a towel and washcloth from the communal stack to set by the basin. It would take a while for the water to run warm so Jimmy took the time to use the toilet then stripped out of his suit. 

Naked, he looked down at himself and imagined standing in front of Thomas like this. _Again_. He pictured those sharp eyes studying him, roaming all over him, judging him. As he let his eyes close, he felt the memory of those hands pressing on his skin and could have sworn the man's distinct scent was in the air – a harsh mix of cigarettes and an aftershave Jimmy, try as he might, could never place. 

His fingers were inches away from wrapping around his growing erection when he opened his eyes and dropped the hand to his side. He was desperate to touch himself, almost painfully so, but he forced his body to head to the sink and ran the washcloth under the warm water. While he went through the motions of scrubbing away at his skin, Jimmy let his mind return to what might happen later. 

When Thomas had told him to come tonight, 'surprise' would be an understatement for how Jimmy had felt. He knew Thomas was nowhere near back to his old snarky self, still speaking so softly and constantly looking away. However, he hadn't pulled away when Jimmy had held his hand or when they'd kissed, something Jimmy was even more thankful for because he'd never been that open with anyone until then. 

But even what he was about to do tonight, Jimmy realised, was new to him too. He'd slept with enough women to have lost count by this point in his life but all of those engagements had been spontaneous and rushed. He might have been with one - maybe two - women who he had known at least a day beforehand yet, even then, he hadn't _known_ them the way he knew Thomas. The way you do know someone after working beside them everyday. And sure, he'd gotten himself ready to go out on the prowl for the night dozens of times but never for a specific person, never for a moment where he didn’t want anybody else's eyes on him but one, never when he didn't know the precise outcome of the evening. 

And what did he want the outcome to be? Jimmy considered this as he discarded the dripping washcloth and settled his head under the tap to let the water run through his hair. He wanted to kiss and touch Thomas as much as he'd be allowed, would be insanely grateful if Thomas would get him off. If he was being honest with himself, he'd admit that he wanted Thomas inside of him again if only to make sure that it really was as mind-blowing as he remembered. Jimmy knew for certain that he wanted to fuck Thomas but even an idiot could tell that the other man was nowhere near being in the right place for that – Jimmy wouldn't even suggest it. There was only one outcome Jimmy really wanted from tonight, though he was seriously beginning to wonder at which point he had turned into such an emotional sap. What he wanted more than anything was for Thomas to hold onto him and not let go. 

He laughed to himself while he finished off rinsing his hair. If Thomas could hear what was going through his head he'd get a good chuckle out of it. Jimmy turned the water off and snatched up his towel to rub it vigorously through his hair until it was almost dry although sticking up in wild clumps. He wrapped the towel around his waist and scooped his clothes up before making a break for it down the corridor, succeeding in slipping into his room without running into anybody. He'd already had an earful several times from Carson about doing that in case he offended someone with his indecency. 

Clothing abandoned in his wash basket, Jimmy attempted to comb his hair into some sort of order without using any oil and was reasonably successful. It'd do, he decided. Relaxed and not too obviously crafted to be so. Conveying the right image was important, after all. He found himself instinctively reaching for his pyjamas and stopped himself, remembering what he had said to Thomas earlier that day. 

"Wearing my best robe," Jimmy muttered to himself as he passed over the sleepwear and opened his wardrobe instead. Amongst his suits, Jimmy kept one of his most treasured items safely hidden. He pulled it out now and laid it out on his bedspread, barely containing his pleased smile at owning such a thing. The item in question, a dressing gown, had been a ludicrously generous gift from Lady Anstruther and he wasn't blind to why she had given him such a thing, not that she got the payout she'd been after. He ran a hand over the material, smooth silk in a dark grey with no embroidery or frills like what a lady would have. The collar, Jimmy had been told, was in a kimono style, allowing the material to rest almost seamlessly against his chest without the thicker lapel of other styles, while the bottom of the robe fell to mid-calf. 

He glanced at the clock atop his dresser and saw that he had less than ten minutes before it would reach the time he and Thomas had agreed on before parting. Jimmy studiously ignored the butterflies in his stomach and finished drying his body with the towel before throwing it on top of his used clothes. Was Thomas making himself ready too? Jimmy knew he had always spent an excessive amount of time on himself, more so than most men, yet he was certain Thomas was the same as him. Nobody should look as good as Thomas without at least a little effort. 

The silk felt liquid smooth as he slid into the robe, the material cooling his flushed skin. He secured the fabric in place with the matching sash tied in a simple bow. Easily undone. One last look at his hair and he was as ready as he would ever be. Quietly as possible, Jimmy opened his door and stuck his head out to check that the hallway was deserted before closing his own door behind him to pad across to Thomas'. He knocked tentatively on the door and was pleased to find his efforts had not gone to waste, judging by the expression on Thomas' face when he opened the door. 

"Wow," Thomas practically whispered. 

Jimmy could feel eyes on him as he slipped into the room and spun to watch Thomas lean against the newly closed door. The underbutler had also abandoned his suit and now sported a pair of loose cotton pyjama bottoms and a white vest which clung to his torso. Jimmy was also pleased to note that Thomas had rinsed all the oil out of his hair and found himself itching to sink his fingers into it. 

"How on earth did you manage to get something like that?" Thomas gestured to the robe as he angled his desk chair under the doorknob to give them a little bit of security. 

"It was a gift. Do you like it then?" Jimmy grinned, taking a small step towards the other. 

"You knew I would." Thomas cautiously closed the gap between them and raised a hand to press against Jimmy's cheek, gently stroking the skin with his thumb. "Do you remember what I said about my...limits?" 

Jimmy nodded. "You set the tone and I'll step away if you need me to. Whatever you want." 

Thomas gave Jimmy a small smile then finally, _finally_ pressed his lips to Jimmy's. His hand slipped from Jimmy's cheek to wrap lightly around the side of his neck, fingers slipping just under the edge of the grey silk. Jimmy pressed his hands on the top of Thomas' bare arms but was about to pull away again when he felt the other flinch. 

"Don't go," Thomas mumbled against his mouth. "I'm alright, honest." As if to prove his point, he wrapped his free arm around Jimmy's waist and pressed their bodies closer then sealed their lips together again. They stayed that way for a while, both relaxing into each other and letting a good deal of the tension bleed away. 

Thomas eventually broke away and stepped back towards his bed, blankets already rolled back at the foot. Jimmy watched him, lit by the dim light of the lamp, as Thomas sat on the side of the bed and held his hand out to Jimmy. He slid his hand into the other man's grip and allowed himself to be pulled forward and guided onto Thomas' lap, straddling him with knees on either side of the other's hips, careful to gather the ends of his robe to his thighs. 

"Hi." Jimmy smiled and rested his hands on Thomas' shoulders as he felt two hands lock around his waist. 

"Hi." Thomas smiled back, the shape of which Jimmy could still feel when he kissed the man again. 

They were pressed so closely together Jimmy could feel Thomas' chest move against his with each breath. He heard himself make little noises when Thomas finally slid his tongue against Jimmy's, lazily teasing, and took the opportunity to bury a hand into Thomas' soft mass of hair. 

This was just like the first time. Jimmy felt like he was drowning again, the rest of the world slipping away as he clung to Thomas. They could have been there for years for all Jimmy knew and it was only the shifting of Thomas' hands to the minute space between them that brought him back to reality. 

"Can I?" Thomas asked, tugging lightly on the knotted sash. 

Jimmy found himself nodding, too nervous that his voice would shake to speak. This was what he'd wanted and his body was nothing to be embarrassed about but he felt himself blush all the same as Thomas undid the simple bow. 

Thomas pressed a kiss to Jimmy's lips then returned his attention to the robe. Jimmy let his arms fall slack to his sides as the fabric was parted down the middle, shivering slightly at the feel of fingertips sliding across his chest to his shoulders. Thomas smoothed his hands down Jimmy's arms, letting the silk slide off and pool behind Jimmy before tugging it away completely and dropping it to the floor. 

"You really are beautiful, Jimmy." He ran his hands down Jimmy's sides, up his chest then down his back where they rested, eyes never looking away from Jimmy's. 

"I don't deserve you," Jimmy whispered as he wrapped himself even tighter around Thomas and pulled him into another deep kiss. He gasped into the other's mouth as Thomas slid a hand down to Jimmy's arse and sunk his fingers into the cheek. When Thomas broke the kiss and attached himself to the juncture of Jimmy's neck and shoulder, Jimmy was forced to bite down on his arm to stay quiet. 

Jimmy nearly bit clean through his skin as he felt long fingers wrap around his growing erection. 

"You don't have to do that." He sat back slightly, watching the confusion spread across Thomas' face. "I mean, I want you to but you don't have to." He attempted to kiss the other's frown away and succeeded by the look of amusement he saw when he moved back again. 

Thomas rested his forehead against Jimmy's. "Let me. I want to hear the sounds you make and be the only one who hears them." 

"Alright." How could he say no? He'd do anything to replace even one memory tainted by Lord Tarnworth. 

Jimmy practically felt his cock throb as Thomas positioned his fingers at the head and smeared the fluid gathered there down the length. His cheeks burning under Thomas' gaze, Jimmy looked away and bit his lip to keep quiet. 

"Look at me," Thomas ordered softly, hand still until Jimmy turned back to him. 

It was only a hand but Jimmy would have sworn he'd never been so aroused in his life, staring into Thomas' eyes as the hand in question changed the pace and pressure. He fought with himself to stay upright with a firm grip on Thomas' upper body and squeezed his eyes shut until he felt lips on his for a moment. 

"Eyes on mine," Thomas smirked, clearly loving tearing Jimmy apart. 

"Thomas please," Jimmy begged. He whined in desperation as Thomas dragged him to the edge. 

"Are you close?" 

"Y-yeah," he stuttered. "So close. Thomas _please_." Jimmy gasped as he felt a hand in his hair guiding his lips to Thomas moments before he came, his groan swallowed by the other. He sagged forward and rested his forehead on Thomas' shoulder, looking down to see the man wiping up the last of the fluid with a handkerchief he must have secured at the last minute. 

Thomas twisted round to push Jimmy onto the mattress and stood up. Jimmy lay on his side, no protest, and watched Thomas deposit the handkerchief in his laundry pile then step back over to squat in front of Jimmy. 

"You all good?" Thomas stroked Jimmy's cheek again. 

"Yeah." Jimmy smiled and struggled to fight back a yawn. "Do you want me to...?" He gestured at Thomas. 

Thomas frowned for a moment before a smile wiped it out. Jimmy was enjoying seeing those smiles more, small as they were. "Return the favour? Don't worry about it, Jimmy. I'm fine just watching you for now. Want to stay? I've set my alarm early enough for you to sneak back." He smiled again at Jimmy's nod, standing to spread the blankets over Jimmy then turn off the light. 

For a moment, Jimmy felt like he was alone and he didn't like it at all. He willed Thomas to walk faster and sighed with content as he felt the other sink onto the mattress and curl up behind him. The heat coming off Thomas more than made up for the chill from his own nudity which he found he didn't mind one bit. As he felt a warm arm slide across his middle, Jimmy snatched the hand up and wrapped his own around it, noting the odd texture of the skin. 

"You never wear that glove anymore," he noted, stroking the scarred patch. 

"I don't feel I have anything else left to hide here so why hide that thing?" Thomas spoke quite bitterly and Jimmy internally cringed at having potentially ruined the moment. 

"It's not a 'thing' and I don't know why you wore it in the first place. You shouldn't have to hide a damn thing." He pressed a kiss to the back of Thomas' hand and smiled as he felt Thomas' lips press to the back of his neck for a moment. "Not from me at any rate." 

"You say some strange things, Jimmy." 

Boy, didn't he know it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed chapter four! Constructive feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Update (21.11.2016): I'm just shy of halfway through the fifth chapter so don't worry, UICB is not abandoned!


	5. See Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back! And it's my longest chapter to date so have at it. 
> 
> This chapter makes reference to a few events in series four and some may be done so with unintentional inaccuracy. Please do take pity - my timeline is a little flexible
> 
> To anyone who has read this work prior to chapter five, I have now made PoV changes a little more subtle and have tweaked the previous chapters to reflect this.
> 
> Enjoy!

"D'you ever think about it?" 

Jimmy looked up from the silver serving tray he had been polishing furiously to Alfred who had taken up a painfully obvious fake state of calm, the death grip on the crystal bowl he was polishing giving him away. 

"Think about what?" Jimmy asked casually, continuing on with his work. He was a better actor than Alfred by far. 

"About..." He watched the oversized footman chew his lip for a moment. "About what happened that night with Mr Barrow and that visiting lord," Alfred rushed out, his pasty cheeks reddening instantly. "I mean that sort of thing must really stick with a bloke." 

Jimmy scoffed incredulously. "Gee, Alfred, do you reckon? Of course I bloody think about it." He could practically feel Alfred's eyes burning holes in him. "Why are you bringing this up now?" 

"It's just." Alfred completely abandoned his bowl and cleaning cloth, folding his arms and frowning down at Jimmy. "If I'm working with anyone it's usually you and we cross paths with Mr Barrow more often than not. And I couldn't help but notice how different you both are from each other." 

Jimmy imagined in Alfred's head that'd sounded more profound than how it'd come out of his mouth. "I hope this is going somewhere." 

"You're a right arse, y'know," Alfred huffed. "But I s'pose that's my point. You barely act any different but Mr Barrow's completely changed. He's all nervous and quiet, hasn't insulted anybody in what feels like forever. I mean, I kind of get it. I think about it too, the morning after when we found you both," he grimaced. "He was just so..." 

"What?" Jimmy could picture clear as day how Thomas had looked laying on that bed and how cold that had made him feel. Yet he also remembered waking up this morning with a warm arm wrapped around him and, when he had turned in that loose embrace, how peaceful Thomas had looked as they sleepily gazed at each other. 

"Fragile. You might've thought the same thing, how small he looked on that big bed. And when I got him on his feet and he was just there right in front of me with nothing to hide behind. He could barely stay standing and, Jimmy, it just made me feel sick." 

Alfred's voice was thick with emotion and, to Jimmy's eye, he seemed honestly distressed by the whole thing. Jimmy had never really put much thought into how all this might have affected Alfred, focused as he always was on Thomas. It must've been...well, he couldn't imagine it himself. "Did y-" 

"It's not even about them both being blokes, that Lord and Mr Barrow, not really." Alfred interrupted, letting his arms fall and coming dangerously close to smacking the bowl he was supposed to be cleaning off the table. "What I can't get my head around is how a person could treat another like that, could bring them down so low. What sort of state must his soul be in, y'know?" 

Jimmy had no desire whatsoever to start debating religion and souls with Alfred. He made a minute nod in the hope that Alfred would carry on and was not disappointed. 

"There's that saying 'you reap what you sow' and we all know Mr Barrow's not the best of people for one reason or another, but he didn't deserve that. I hope he gets better." He shrugged then studied Jimmy with narrowed eyes. "And then there's you." 

"You said I hadn't changed," Jimmy said warily. He and Thomas'd only made up the other day – they couldn't've been caught already? 

"Not to us but I've noticed things. You know I have." Alfred stared pointedly until Jimmy was forced to look away, desperately employing all of his skills into appearing as innocent as possible. "Up until yesterday evening, you've both been a bit weird, avoiding each other. You're worried about him." 

Jimmy shrugged in agreement. It seemed safe enough to admit to and, in spite of his jokes, he knew Alfred wasn't nearly as gormless as he looked. 

"Are you-" Alfred was forced to abandon his question as the sound of brisk steps coming down the corridor grew louder. They both seized their cloths and got back to work as Thomas stepped into the servants' hall. 

He moved round the table to face them, probably noticing how far behind they were. "You aren't done yet. Mr Carson had wanted one of you to help serve tea to the family but I'll have to go." He sighed and made to leave again. 

Jimmy cringed. He knew Thomas had been trying to avoid being alone with Mr Carson and, as far as he could tell, it had been a good day for the underbutler until then. "I'm sorry, Mr Barrow." 

"Never mind." 

\--- 

To say that Carson was unimpressed when Thomas had turned up in the library bearing the remainder of the tea service would have been an understatement. The man must have been convinced that Thomas spent every waking moment thinking of ways to get under the man's skin, the most effective method just being in his presence. And, of course, Jimmy and Alfred's 'tortoise-like work ethic' had to be something they had learned from Thomas. Consequently, they served the tea in near silence, only communicating when absolutely necessary. He would have begged off being there had the whole family, save for Mrs Crawley, not been present. One could hardly serve tea in the presence of the Dowager with any less than two pairs of hands. 

Still, Thomas would have considered giving his left leg if he could swap places with one of the footmen safe downstairs. 

He picked up the sugar bowl to hand to Mr Carson but found himself pausing for a moment to watch the family. There was nothing out of the ordinary, all of them sat in a large ring and chatting amiably enough, smiling and laughing every now and again. He thought how nice it must be to be part of something like that, to have people to chat to about anything at all and know that deep down they will always be there to pick you back up again when things go south. 

"Will you be handing that to me today?" Mr Carson hissed and made to seize the bowl, bashing Thomas' arm and grazing his hand in the process. 

Jerked back to reality, Thomas gasped and lurched violently away from the unexpected touch, letting the bowl tumble from his hand. 

"Oh for heaven's-" The butler made a grab for the tumbling china and snatched it just before it collided with the edge of the tray. He did not, however, manage to catch it before the sugar scattered across the floor. "Look at what you have done," Mr Carson seethed, fighting desperately not to make a scene although they both knew the whole family were looking their way. 

"I say, is everything alright?" His lordship asked. 

"Yes, my Lord. Mr Barrow forgot himself for a moment and will soon return with a fresh bowl of sugar and a brush." 

As soon as the empty bowl was pressed roughly into his hands, Thomas made a dash for the door with his head bent and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He hadn't made such a clumsy mistake since his first few weeks as a footman and today he had gone and messed up in front of the Dowager of all people. Mr Carson would happily see him swing for that offence if he could. But Thomas hadn't done it on purpose, hated the way he was... 

He entered the kitchen to find Mrs Patmore, Daisy and Ivy in the beginnings of what looked like the upstairs evening meal. Mrs Patmore put down the large knife she had been hacking at a slab of beef with as she caught sight of Thomas. 

"What's wrong with you? You're all red in the face." That observation had both Daisy and Ivy pausing in what they were doing to stare at him too. 

Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly. "I accidentally dropped the sugar bowl for the tea service and need it refilling, please. I need a brush too," he sighed. 

Mrs Patmore's eyebrows rose in surprise but she took pity on him enough not to make a big deal out of it for the moment. "Right then," she clapped her hands together. "Daisy, you sort out the sugar. Ivy, find a brush and pan for Mr Barrow." 

"But they're only kept over there," Ivy protested, gesturing to a cupboard off the main hallway, as Daisy took the bowl from him with a sympathetic half smile. 

"Then it won't take you long to fetch back, will it?" Mrs Patmore raised her hands in exasperation as Ivy stormed out of the kitchen in defeat. "How'd you end up making a mistake like that then?" 

Thomas found himself twisting his fingers anxiously and forced himself to stop. "I wasn't paying attention and Mr Carson made me jump. I've embarrassed him in front of the Dowager." 

Mrs Patmore winced in sympathy. "I might suggest being more careful with that one." She pointed in his direction as Daisy handed him the replenished bowl of sugar. Thomas had barely opened his mouth to say thank you when Ivy was pressing a small dustpan and brush into his other hand. He thanked them both and raced back up to the library, pausing for a moment as the conversation within bled into the hallway through the unclosed door. 

"-a shame what has become of the poor soul. Don’t you agree, Robert?" 

Her ladyship couldn't be talking about him, could she? 

"Indeed. Seeing him now, it makes one rather miss the days of Barrow acting as if he was Lord Grantham and not I." 

_They were_. It sounded as if he was an inconvenience. Of that, he was well aware. 

"One might assume Barrow was dead with the way you talk about him." He heard the Dowager drawl. "I say it is admirable how quickly he returned to work, this accident aside." 

The Dowager knew? If that fact alone didn't add to Mr Carson's anger, the woman apparently supporting Thomas' attempts to return to normalcy would. 

"Yes, mama. Yet I cannot help but feel guilty that my hands are tied regarding getting any justice. It is an extraordinary shame." 

Thomas had heard enough. He walked in and returned to Mr Carson's side, handing over the bowl. As Mr Carson tended to the family's sugar requirements, Thomas knelt on the floor and swept up his mess. He finished just as Mr Carson returned to their position against the wall and rose with the intention of returning the pan and brush downstairs. 

"Best leave that here in case you cause any further incidents," Mr Carson muttered darkly. Thomas nodded meekly and stowed them on the bottom tray of the cart used for the tea service. 

"Barrow, are you quite alright?" Lady Grantham enquired gently. 

Thomas had the distinct impression that to her ladyship he was a scared animal she was trying to coax from hiding. "Perfectly fine, my lady." He made a conscious effort to keep any shaking out of his voice and body but, judging from the disbelieving look on her face, it was effort wasted. 

His lordship then turned his judging eyes on Thomas. The man had been doing that a lot recently, probably waiting to see if there would be another outburst like the day after the incident. He still found himself cringing at the memory of that day but at the time he had been petrified that he was about to be dismissed to avoid a scandal. Indeed, he was still convinced that would be his fate if he caused one more embarrassment, and what would he do without Downton Abbey? 

"If you would like to take time for yourself for a few days, you would find us all agreeable to the idea." 

His lordship's show of compassion gave Thomas the urge to hide himself away for the shame that was flooding through him. 'All agreeable'? They must be sick of the sight of him moping around like a kicked dog. 

"That won't be necess-" 

"Speak louder!" Mr Carson snapped at him. "And look at his lordship when you address him, not your shoes." 

Startled, Thomas raised his head to see the whole gathering watching him in various shades of concern. He hadn't even realised he'd looked away or wasn't speaking clearly.

"Apologies, my Lord." He could feel the blush burning across his face. "I would like to keep working if you will allow it. I... I am _trying_ to get better and I apologise again if my presence is causing any discomfort." 

"Not at all!" But it was painfully obvious that Thomas had made the man uncomfortable and God only knew what state Mr Carson was in. "We only thought that you should have the option available to you, Barrow. But we are satisfied for you to continue as you are if Carson is also in agreement." 

Carson drew himself up as he often did when speaking to his beloved lord. "He is perfectly capable of fulfilling his duties, my lord. However, it is clear that we cannot carry on as we were. I will see to it that the proper steps are taken to avoid a repeat of today's incident. Mr Barrow, you may return downstairs." 

Thomas didn't need to be told twice and wasted no time rushing down the stairs and through the corridor until he found himself alone in the yard. It only took him a moment to have a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He fought with himself to calm down and was about to run through what on earth had just happened when Mr Carson swung open the door and stormed into the yard. 

"You," he practically snarled, "are to go straight to Mrs Hughes' office as soon as that is finished." He gestured at the cigarette. "Leaving you to yourself does not seem to be working - rather, your self-imposed isolation is worsening things so far as everyone can tell. We are all endeavouring to be patient but one can only play the victim for so long, Mr Barrow." 

He couldn't honestly be implying that Thomas was acting how he was to gain sympathy? That was almost funny. "I don't want to be this way. I want to be like how I was before." He tried to keep Mr Carson from seeing how the accusation had hurt him. 

The butler harrumphed and turned towards the door, throwing one final blow as he stepped inside. "I should hope you might aim to be far better than the creature you were before that incident occurred." 

The cigarette fell to the ground as Thomas buried his face in his hands and took several shaky breaths. Every time he made just a little progress, he could always rely on someone coming along to kick him back down. A man could only take so much... 

"Mr Barrow? What ever is the matter?" 

Could he have no moment of peace? He dropped his hands and met Anna's concerned frown as she stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the frame. He seemed to be getting a lot of those frowns today. 

"Nothing to worry about, just had a run in with Mr Carson is all." Thomas shrugged, hoping that would be the end of it. 

"Mind you keep out of any further trouble then," she teased as she crossed the yard, likely heading to her little cottage. 

"Anna," he heard himself saying. She turned and raised her eyebrows expectantly at him when he didn't continue speaking. He should just let her carry on, tell her it didn't matter. "Am I really so awful?" 

Anna sighed and took a step towards him. "As awful as Mr Carson sees you? I don't think anybody is," she attempted to joke. "You aren't the most approachable person, and you've done some questionable things in the past, but there are plenty worse than you. Met some of them myself. Are you trying to turn over a new leaf?" 

Was that what he was doing? The last leaf had been burned to a crisp at any rate. "Just trying to survive," he muttered. 

She moved closer and Thomas watched as she placed a hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. "If you look around the abbey, you'll see that you're not alone, Thomas. Let people in like you're doing now and you might be surprised by those willing to give you a chance." 

He nodded and offered a small smile as an olive branch. "Thank you, Anna." 

"Not a problem." She gave his arm one last squeeze and headed on her way, leaving Thomas on his own once more. 

He had stalled long enough and it was high time he delivered himself to Mrs Hughes. Thomas by no means wanted Mr Carson to chase him down again. 

The door was barely closed behind him when the woman practically pounced on him, hands planted disapprovingly on her hips.  
"There you are! I was starting to think I'd have to form a search party for you," Mrs Hughes teased lightly. "Come along then." She took off down the corridor at a surprising speed, forcing Thomas to quickly stride after her as he was lead to her office. 

She took up a seat at her small table and gestured for Thomas to take its opposite, moving to pour him a cup of tea from the steaming pot that had been waiting for them. Thomas stared warily at the woman as the social niceties of tea were performed. Mrs Hughes' setup for their conversation was far too cosy for his liking, used as he was to being chastised in Carson's office with the man's desk acting as a barrier of authority. No, in Thomas' mind this little table was generally reserved for whatever nonsense Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore liked to chat about. Happy things and the like. When Mr Carson had ordered him here, his tone had not implied 'happy things'. 

Mrs Hughes took a delicate sip from her cup and replaced it on the saucer, settling back in her chair to analyse Thomas, or so it felt. "I would remind you that a primary purpose of the senior staff is to lend an ear when others are in any sort of difficulty. You really ought to make use of that service yourself." 

Thomas couldn't help raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Mrs Hughes, I can hardly go to Mr Carson of all people if I have a personal problem, can I?" Mr Carson was in charge of the male staff after all and had been the one to demand that he and Jimmy fix things. "If it's not directly related to either the house or the family, he doesn't want to hear it. Not from me at any rate." He had come to terms a long time ago with the fact that he and Mr Carson would never see eye to eye. 

"Which, I suspect, is precisely why he sent you here. I appreciate that you and Mr Carson have your differences which may put you both off from attempting certain conversations. So, drink your tea and let's have a chat. I want you to be completely frank with me," she ordered sternly. 

He did as he was told and sipped at his tea, a tad milkier than he preferred, but made no move to speak. If there were topics he wanted to avoid with Mr Carson, what made her think he would talk about them with her? If anybody, it would be Jimmy he'd talk to and he didn't particularly fancy that either. 

Mrs Hughes sighed with impatience at his silence but she didn't look angry. "What happened upstairs? Mrs Patmore said that you were startled and dropped the sugar. That's not like you." 

He shrugged. "It is now. I'd let my mind wander and Mr Carson pushed into my arm. Next thing I know, the sugar's spilled everywhere, the whole family's staring at me and Mr Carson's thinking of twenty new ways he could kill me." 

"Simple as that?" She frowned sympathetically. 

Thomas nodded as he stirred his spoon in the dregs of his tea. "I'm well aware how pathetic that is but I can't stand to be suddenly touched right now. It's just about bearable when I see it coming towards me." He was going to give too much away, he just knew it. But that was the problem with Mrs Hughes which he often forgot – she was incredibly easy to talk to. 

"Did you feel this way the first time such a thing happened to you? During the war?" 

Cringing at the reminder that he had given that dark secret away, he nodded minutely. "I suppose I must have, though with everything going on at the front it was hard to tell what was traumatising me in a particular moment." It was often with resignation, rather than bitterness, that Thomas found himself talking about the war. 

"Well, we can but hope that things will return to normal for you, given the right time." She nodded, as if to affirm that was all there was to it. If only. 

"Mrs Hughes, I don't have any time! You know Mr Carson's itching for a reason to get rid of me, especially after today. He wants me to behave properly now and I'm trying – honestly I am – but I can't just-." He was getting flustered but couldn't help it. "I've tried to talk to him and he won't have it. He thinks I'm putting it on to gain sympathy, you know." 

"Is it not understandable that Mr Carson just doesn't understand such things?" Mrs Hughes tried to reason with him but, worked up as he was, Thomas was having none of it. Funny how he hadn't planned on saying anything. 

"He's never tried to. You must be, or you wouldn't be bothering with me now. Alfred seems to understand well enough to be careful around me and he doesn't even know exactly what happened, not really. Mr Carson would sooner ship me off to Lord Tarnworth than admit that I'm actually hurt." Thomas buried his face in his hands and fought to calm his breathing, overcome with frustration and fear. 

Mrs Hughes let him have a moment then spoke to him in a soothing manner. "True enough, Mr Carson may not fully appreciate your difficulties, although I suspect it is not because of a particular dislike for you, strained though your relationship often is." 

"What are you saying?" Thomas dropped his hands and regarded the woman warily once more. 

"Have you ever thought that he might feel guilty for what happened? Think," she urged as Thomas made a disbelieving huff. "As butler, he is in charge of the welfare of the staff and is for the most part the only one senior to you in that regard, given that I primarily govern the female staff. Yet, both you and James were made victims under this roof. Mr Carson may very well feel that he has let you down," she reasoned. 

"He's got a funny way of showing it." 

Mrs Hughes chuckled softly. "You know as well as I that our butler is not always the best at approaching emotional issues. I think he cannot stand the reminder that you have been hurt which may make him appear more waspish than usual with you. Think about it?" 

Thomas nodded, not doubting for a second that it would be keeping him up all night. 

"I also hope that I don't need to remind you that these discussions are to be kept within this room. It is only because of your position within the senior staff that I have talked with you so freely thus far." 

He nodded again and tried to appear as confident as he could. "Might I ask that you don't discuss me with Mrs Patmore? Not all this, if you want me to come back and I suspect you do. I'm tired of being the subject of gossip." 

Mrs Hughes leaned forward and patted Thomas' hand comfortingly, purposely moving slow enough for Thomas to ready himself. "You can trust me. And yes, I'm afraid you will be a frequent visitor here," she smiled. "Mr Carson is determined that you aren't to isolate yourself any longer, a sentiment I wholly agree with. I was pleased to notice that you and James are chatting again, but would I be right in supposing that there are many subjects which you won't bring up with him?" 

"Probably," Thomas shrugged. "He shouldn't have to try to fix all my problems though." 

"I'll expect you here every week then. My office is always open to you if you need more than that," she encouraged, laying the maternal tone on thick. "Understand that you aren't alone." 

He laughed mirthlessly. "Funny, Anna said the same thing to me today just before I came to see you. Apparently I'm turning over a new leaf." 

Mrs Hughes was equal parts surprised and pleased at that, dismissing him moments later with the promise that he would try to patch things up with the other staff he had offended over the years. Thomas suspected he would be close to retirement age by the time that was done but agreed nevertheless. He was just thankful that they had talked about Mr Carson more than anything else, a far more agreeable subject than himself. And God help him when she inevitably wanted to talk about Jimmy. Thomas could hardly go about discussing their past while simultaneously trying to figure out their present and wondering how long their future would last. 

It was complicated. _They_ were complicated. 

Judging by the clock hanging in the hallway, Thomas had just shy of fifteen minutes before he would be needed for the dinner preparation to have a cigarette. Hopefully, in peace. 

\--- 

Jimmy had been waiting all day to run into Thomas and give him a proper apology for slacking in his work with the polishing. Only because of what he'd heard had happened in the library, mind. Not a sudden new desire to perform his tasks to perfection, beating Alfred always having been his sole priority there. If they'd just got on with it, instead of spending half the time chatting, one of them would have served the tea. 

He had heard what had happened practically the moment he set foot in the kitchen, Ivy barrelling him over in her rush to share her gossip. She confessed to hiding behind a wall and eavesdropping after being sent out for a brush for Thomas, hearing him confess the mortifying event to Mrs Patmore. Jimmy had felt himself cringe in sympathy at the rookie mistake. It was the last thing any of them needed to happen in front of Mr Carson, let alone Thomas. 

Try as he might, it proved impossible to pin Thomas down all evening. They were both either off fetching and carrying for Mr Carson and Mrs Patmore, preparing and serving the dinner service for the family, or in company where Jimmy felt he couldn't speak as freely as he'd like. There was notable tension between Mr Carson and Thomas throughout the dinner service yet he was sure they hadn't had to speak once to each other. Luckily for Thomas, he was bloody good at his job and always appeared or disappeared with what was needed before Mr Carson would have the chance to open his mouth. Jimmy had also noted the assessing looks the Dowager had thrown at Thomas multiple times throughout the meal. He knew she had been there when the sugar thing had happened, but why she was looking at Thomas like that was a reason he couldn't even guess at. 

He had hoped to grab the other man after but Thomas was sent to pour drinks for the ladies with Alfred while he was ordered to do the same for the men with Mr Carson. Needless to say, he also failed during their own dinner and would have failed in the few hours left of the night before good servants sent themselves to bed, what with how quick Thomas scarpered off while Jimmy was busy explaining to Alfred precisely why his way of lowering platters was oafish at best. When he'd done, there had been no sight of Thomas. He was about to give it up and assume that Thomas was angry and avoiding him until Edna pulled him aside. 

"Looking for Mr Barrow, aren't you?" She smirked. 

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. He didn't know much about the woman as her return came just after the mess with Lord Tarnworth. He had never got a good impression of her either as a general maid or lady's maid, but he had gotten the sense to be careful around her. "I might be. Why?" 

"Could be that I know where he is. I'll tell you for a favour later." 

Jimmy didn't need anyone to tell him not to make that deal. He'd rather search the house twice over. Before he could tell Edna precisely where she could stuff her deal – politely, of course – he was tapped on the shoulder from behind. He turned to find Anna directing a frown towards Edna. 

"Don't bother. He's in the boot room, Jimmy." She didn't look pleased with Edna but gave Jimmy a brief smile as they watched Edna walk off with an eye roll. What was going on there? 

"Appreciate it, Anna," he thanked her and strode down the hallway, adamant that Thomas would not slip by him again. 

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, delighted to find the underbutler completely alone, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He turned the key hanging in the lock just in case Edna, or anyone else, was still prowling around. 

Thomas resumed polishing the riding boot in his grip and dropped his gaze to the table, much to Jimmy's annoyance. "Did you need something?" 

_Did he need something?_ Jimmy huffed and squeezed himself in the gap Thomas had left between himself and the table. "Are you angry with me?" He demanded. "Because I completely understand if you are, and I wanted to apologise about what happened today but it felt like you were avoiding me. Were you? Are you? I can leave, just..." He trailed off, nervous, still not quite sure where he stood with Thomas. It was so delicate, the thing between them. 

He was about to start up again when Thomas stopped him with a momentary brush of his lips to Jimmy's. "I'm avoiding everybody, there's a difference." Thomas dropped the boot and cloth on the table behind Jimmy and tentatively placed both hands on Jimmy's hips. "I figured everyone knew about what I'd done." 

"Ivy was eavesdropping on you and Mrs Patmore. She told me and probably half the others, knowing her." He wrapped his own arms around Thomas, drawing them closer together. "I really am sorry me and Alfred weren't able to serve tea. You shouldn't have had to go through that with Mr Carson." 

Thomas sighed and linked his own arms behind Jimmy's back, dropping his forehead to Jimmy's shoulder. "It's no one's fault but mine. I'd let my mind wander." 

"What were you thinking about?" Jimmy rubbed small circles into Thomas' back. 

Thomas tensed up and Jimmy was about to pull away when the other relaxed against him again. "Families. How they're always supposed to be there for you. Must be nice."

Jimmy hummed in agreement. "Must be. There's this sense of...it's like something missing when you don't have it. That support. Right?" 

"Yeah. Imagine if there was someone who would accept you for you, no matter what you did, no matter what might happen." 

Jimmy chewed on his lip as he thought about how best to reply. "You know you have that, don't you? Mrs Hughes has definitely got a soft spot for you, Mrs Patmore too, I reckon. Even Alfred in a way. No, really, he practically said as much to me," Jimmy insisted when Thomas snorted into his shoulder. "And don't forget me." He pressed his lips to the side of Thomas' head. 

"I already tried that, remember?" 

Thomas raised his head and kissed Jimmy, pressing him back against the table. Their lips moved together slowly, and each time they re-connected Jimmy felt a little shiver run through him. He loved this, would never get enough. Loved how soft Thomas' lips were yet how firm his body was as he was drawn flush against it. 

Thomas leant back, taking Jimmy's bottom lip with him as he tugged on it with his teeth. "I need to get back to work." He released Jimmy and stepped back, a small smile on his face as Jimmy just stared at him, dazed and blushing. Jimmy nodded and made for the door, barely having taken a handful of steps when a hand wrapped around his wrist and jerked him right back against Thomas, those lips on his once more. Christ, it was like being in a bloody romance film! "Sorry," Thomas murmured. "You make me feel good – normal, wanted, like I'm okay. I want to soak up as much of that as I can before..." He drifted off. 

Jimmy was equal parts thrilled and hurt by the words. He framed Thomas' face in his hands, making the other look him in the eye. "I _do_ want you and I'm not suddenly going to wake up one day, realise this was all a big mistake, and propose to Ivy. I love the way you make me feel. You know me, I don't have to pretend around you. Yeah, this all terrifies me. But do you know what scares me more?" 

"What?" Thomas whispered, wide eyed. 

"The thought of not having this at all. I want you," he repeated. "Just you, as you are, as you've always been, as you always will be. One day you're going to believe that. There won't be a doubt in your mind like there isn't one in mine," Jimmy promised. 

Thomas took one of Jimmy's hands from his face and pressed his lips to the knuckles. "I trust you. Maybe I don't believe you but I do trust you. Can that be enough for now?"  


Jimmy smiled and stole a quick kiss. "Whatever you want to give me will always be enough." 

\--- 

All in all, the last week had gone surprisingly well for Thomas. It had started terribly, what with the sugar bowl and the added strain on his and Mr Carson's working relationship which neither of them needed. Then things had rapidly improved. Not with Mr Carson, of course, but everywhere else. After the initial success with Anna, Thomas had made it his mission the last few days to follow both her and Mrs Hughes' advice and try and make good with the rest of the staff. It was surprisingly easier than he had thought, being helpful, being kind. 

He ticked off the easy ones first. The people he had only offended or annoyed rather than those he had absolutely infuriated. The likes of Mr Bates would take a far more strategic approach. Mr Carson would take divine intervention. The maids were quick work. All he had to do was volunteer to carry a few things for them and openly praise their work which was more than well-deserved. The same approach worked with the hall boys and it was admittedly quite amusing watching them preen from his words. Alfred was also a simple task as all he needed to do was what he should have done the second the man took up the role of footman: help. He taught him more than a few tricks of the trade, including some he had yet to teach Jimmy, and since then Alfred had engaged him in several friendly conversations. He didn't overly bother with Ivy, still a little annoyed with her for spying, but he wasn't openly standoffish so he felt satisfied with that. Pleasing Daisy worked out well, having volunteered himself as a test subject for her cooking experiments when nobody else was willing. It was their loss as nearly every dish he was presented with yesterday evening and that morning were exquisite, save for a sour sauce. Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore didn't require much. He spotted them having a friendly chat in Mrs Hughes' office with the door open and brought them a tea service. It turned out little things went a long way. 

He mused over his progress as he sat in the nursery. He was entertaining the children while their new nurse had gone on the hunt for her ladyship to enquire about something or other to do with clothing. In a spur of the moment, he had sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall with George resting in the crook of his arm, a cloth defending his livery from anything which might leak out of the baby, and Sybbie sat to his right. He was talking to them both, saying a load of nonsense and letting Sybbie play gently with George's tiny fingers, when Tom entered the room. 

They had both frozen, not sure what to do. Thomas was painfully aware that the last time they had been properly confronted with each other was the morning after Lord Tarnworth when Tom had seen him in that condition. Since then, nothing beyond 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' had been exchanged between them. He'd been about to get up when Tom held his hand up to stop and, to his daughter's delight, sat right next to Thomas, pulling the girl into his lap. 

Tom grabbed a doll to distract Sybbie with and cleared his throat awkwardly as he made a sideways glance at Thomas. "...How are you?" Tom tried. 

Thomas shrugged, mindful of George. "Alright. I was just watching them while Nanny Clarke finds her ladyship." He felt the need to explain himself. 

"You're good with them. I heard what you did with warning about Nanny West and I've been wanting to thank you for a while but I wasn't sure how best to approach you. So, thank you. It means a lot that you would care enough to intervene just for the children's sake. And with what you were dealing with." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at Sybbie's runny nose. 

He shrugged again. The thing with Nanny West had been a few weeks ago when he hadn't been in the best place mentally, not that things were peachy right now. He hadn't meant to clash with the woman but she had rubbed him up the wrong way. It was not with a heavy heart that he watched her leave. Nanny Clarke was far more agreeable. "Children are innocent. They don't deserve what happens to them. Anyone would have done the same." 

"Maybe. But thank you all the same. I worry about Sybbie growing up in this environment so it's comforting to see how many people I can rely on to protect her. Careful, darling," Tom chided the girl as she got a tad overcited with swinging the doll around. 

"You're welcome." This was unexpected progress with Tom, someone who he thought would be up there with Mr Bates in difficulty, given how long he had antagonised the man for. 

"If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. Not like returning the favour – just because." Tom turned and smiled earnestly at him. 

Thomas was too taken aback to do anything but nod dumbly. Nanny Clarke chose that exact moment to bustle back into the room, shaking her head disapprovingly at the two of them sat on the floor albeit with good humour. They were soon ushered out of the nursery, both going their separate ways, as the children were long overdue for a nap. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing last minute preparations for Mr Carson who was going down to Manchester for the next two days to make enquiries on behalf of his lordship which, apparently, no man save Mr Carson was capable of doing. Did they not realise the turmoil this caused downstairs? And not because they were unable to function without Mr Carson, but because the butler thought them utterly useless. Nevertheless, they managed to have things organised to a military precision one strained conversation at a time. Thomas had a theory that Mr Carson pretended he was talking to somebody else, his fantasy prodigy, when they were forced to discuss the running of the house. 

Eventually, and with much coaxing from Mrs Hughes, they arrived at a point where Mr Carson was almost convinced that the house would still be standing when he returned and Thomas was finally able to consider going to bed. His final chore for the evening was to make a round of the house, checking everything was secure and locked up tight. He didn't necessarily have to do it, Mr Carson generally beating him to it, but he had become half convinced that the butler purposefully left certain things not as they should be to try and catch Thomas out. Thomas took too much pride in his work to allow these small victories. 

He hummed a little tune as he made quick work of the floors, going from top to bottom with the intention of taking a cup of tea up to bed with him. As the task involved minimal attention, he allowed himself to engage in one of his more favourite evening activities prior to retiring for the night: thinking of Jimmy. In the last week, the other had spent more nights in Thomas' bed than his own. They had yet to fully revisit when Thomas had brought Jimmy off in his lap but they had been doing a lot of kissing. Jimmy's borderline narcissistic qualities were proving advantageous as he was more than happy to lose his clothing on each occasion. With a little more courage, Thomas was determined to fully explore that body again like he hadn't since the very first time in the next few days. He felt safe with Jimmy and increasingly more aroused, not that he had let the other touch him like that yet. Not that that made any logical sense, really, but that was how he felt. He had told Jimmy not to wait up for him tonight, but perhaps tomorrow... 

He was about to leave the library, having shut a forgotten window, when the sound of shuffling feet down the main hallway made him pause. He crept quietly to the door which he had left partially open and peered out, taking full advantage of the lack of lighting. Of course, that would have been a disadvantage as well as he might have struggled to identify the one creeping around. However, as luck would have it, they picked up the phone. 

"Hello, operator? York 2718 please," the hushed voice of a woman requested. 

If Thomas wasn't mistaken, that woman was Edna. His interest had officially been grabbed. What was she doing sneaking around in the middle of the night and using the family's phone? 

"Agatha? Yes, I know it's late but you know this is the only time I can call. Look, do you want a progress update or not? Of course I have. Do you think I sit around here all day? I wish! Now listen..." 

The one-sided nature of the conversation wasn't helping much make sense. But he knew he needed to pay attention as the woman was clearly up to something. 

"He thinks I'm on his side, said we could be friends. It won't be long before I have him secured. A man like him stuck in a place like this. He's _desperate_."  
Could she be talking about...? 

"Yes, I've read the book you sent me. I'm not stupid enough to actually get with child without making certain I'm the next Mrs Tom Branson." 

Thomas barely managed to choke back the gasp of shock. He'd heard some wild schemes from the staff before, even attempted some himself, but was this woman honestly trying to trick Tom into marriage? She certainly seemed devious enough. Thomas had sensed that a mile off, worse still when she had returned as lady's maid. And he did not doubt that Tom would be naïve and guilt ridden enough to fall for it, especially if he thought there was a child involved. Previously, he would have more than likely let it play out, waiting for the scheme to fall flat on its face. But he couldn’t do that, could he? Not when there was so much at stake, and not the same day in which he had made a breakthrough with Tom himself. 

"I'll call again in two nights time. It will be done by then. He'll be mine. Yes, goodbye." 

Thomas stayed in his hiding spot, rapidly forming a plan as Edna sneaked back down the hallway. The moment he heard the familiar closing of the green baize door, he checked that the way was clear and made his way down an alternate staircase. He made his way to the servants hall, turning on lights as he went, and rifled through the assortment of items abandoned by the fireplace until he managed to find a scrap of paper and a pencil. Adopting an alternate handwriting style, Thomas quickly scribbled down the gist of the conversation he had just heard, making it clear that Tom was to be put on the alert immediately. He felt an undeniable sense of satisfaction growing with every word he wrote, proud that he was being proactive and protecting the innocent. The 'new leaf' business wasn't so bad at all. Thomas folded the scrap up and approached the door to Mrs Hughes' sitting room. It was always locked at night so he knelt and pushed the paper under the door, flicking it with enough force to send it well into the room so it couldn’t be dragged back. 

"You're up late, Mr Barrow." 

He jerked to his feet, of course finding none other than Edna stood barely a few feet from him. How had he not noticed her?  
"Not for much longer. Goodnight, Miss Braithwaite." He made to move past her but she stepped in front of him, cutting his escape route off. 

"What were you doing just then?" She asked in a tone she clearly imagined was neutral curiosity but Thomas could hear was laced with suspicion. 

"Just returning a key I had borrowed from Mrs Hughes," Thomas lied, taking the chance that she hadn't seen exactly what he had slipped under the door. "If you will excuse me." He succeeded in retreating up the staircase, well aware that her eyes were pinned on him until he was out of sight. 

\--- 

Looking back retrospectively, Thomas should have anticipated the fallout leaving that note would cause, particularly for himself. At the most, he had thought Edna might be dismissed, at the least a slap on the wrist. Why would he be affected when the note had been as anonymous as he could make it? 

As it turned out, it wasn't going to end well for him. 

Mrs Hughes had immediately reacted to the information, apparently not questioning its legitimacy for a moment which was something to dwell on another time. She disappeared for the best part of the morning, leaving Thomas in charge of keeping the maids, footmen and hall boys on task. Thanks in no small part to their familiarity with Mr Carson's iron-fisted management style, it required little effort on Thomas' part. She returned, grim-faced, in time for the staff luncheon, casting her eye on Edna several times. Had she been investigating? What had she found? 

Later in the afternoon as he was carrying the silverware through to the kitchen, he spotted a fuming Edna and a flushed Tom leaving Mrs Hughes' sitting room. It looked as though Thomas had ruined her plans just in time. Yet it became apparent that not everything had gone to plan for himself as he became keenly aware of the glares Edna directed at him each time she laid eyes on him that day. She knew he must have been involved in some way. Stupid as he thought her, she wasn't a complete fool. Thomas knew it was only a matter of time before she sought her revenge. 

He had failed to anticipate that she would strike the next day. 

Thomas was busy re-arranging things in the library, enjoying the last day of freedom before Mr Carson's return the following morning. Mindless tasks such as this had never not been deeply satisfying to him, just drifting along on his own, thinking about nothing or everything. 

It was as he was checking the shelves against the borrowing ledger that his bubble of isolation was burst by the door swinging open. He assumed it was Tom, wanting to use the room at an irregular time, but it was in fact Mrs Hughes who entered, followed by Mr Bates of all people. Thomas lowered the ledger and met them halfway, stomach twisting at the worried grimace on the housekeeper's face. Mr Bates' blank slate of a face did nothing to help either. 

"Mr Barrow, this morning I received information of a concerning nature," Mrs Hughes began. "An unsigned note, written in unknown handwriting, was left for me. The author made a rather troubling allegation." She paused, clasping her hands together tightly. 

"About me?" Thomas asked quietly. He could already feel beads of sweat beginning to roll down his back. 

"Well, yes. In it... In it, they claimed that you are in possession of at least one blade, either concealed in your room or on your person, with which you intend to harm yourself if you have not already done so. Therefore, your room must be searched and if nothing is found there you will must be searched too. Thomas, wait." 

Thomas shook his head, backing away until he collided with a table. "You can’t be serious. Please, Mrs Hughes. I wouldn't do something like that! How can you trust the note more than me?" He tried, knowing full well exactly why. 

"Yesterday I received a similar note with allegations which turned out to be true, evidence having been found in a room search. The notes clearly came from separate authors and this one could be a malicious attack but I cannot take the chance. I have already spoken with Mr Carson on the telephone and we are both in agreement. Whether meant as such or not, the possession of a weapon is a danger to the staff of this household, not to mention the duty of care we have towards you." Mrs Hughes approached him tentatively. "I am giving you the courtesy of being present while I search your room. Let's just get it all out of the way and we can forget about it, alright?" 

Thomas nodded, knowing there was nothing he could do if Mr Carson had given his approval. "And why is Mr Bates here?" He knew. Of course he did. But he was nothing if not a glutton for punishment. 

"To search you." She left it at that and lead the slow procession up to the men's rooms. 

Thomas held himself stiffly against his bedroom wall, Mr Bates leant on the doorframe as they watched Mrs Hughes search every nook and cranny of his room. She went through his drawers, rummaged through his trunk, even flicked through the pages of his books in case there was a blade pressed inside. She paused briefly over his small set of straight razors, a gift from a long-deceased uncle on becoming a footman way back when. 

"Mr Bates, would you say these may be considered dangerous?" She held the open box out to the valet. 

Mr Bates gave them a cursory glance. "No, they look fairly dull. A man can't be expected to go without a razor, surely." 

Mrs Hughes nodded, replacing the box and moving to the wardrobe. She searched through every last item, digging through pockets, pressing the linings. Thomas had never seen somebody so thorough and he was mighty glad that he had nothing at all incriminating in his room. A lesson he had learned quickly was to keep anything of that kind off the property. You never knew who could end up prying through your things. 

She eventually admitted defeat. "I couldn't find anything. Mr Bates, if you would. I'll be waiting in the corridor." She made to move past them.

Thomas frowned in confusion, his nausea making a reappearance. "Why? I thought this was just a patting search, over my clothes." That in itself was bad enough. Mr Bates' eyeroll did nothing to assure him. "Don't tell me I'm mistaken." 

"There's nothing that can be done, Thomas," she said sympathetically. "We have to know for certain and this is the only way. Wouldn't you rather be cleared of suspicion?" 

Thomas shook his head. He knew Mr Bates would never hurt him like that, but he couldn’t do it, wasn't strong enough. 

"Look," Mr Bates snapped. "If you don't, the police will have to be called. Do you want that? A man like you wouldn't do well in prison." 

"Mr Bates!" Mrs Hughes gasped. 

Thomas tuned out the rest of her reprimand. Mr Bates was right. Prison would finish him off and he'd be one step closer to an asylum. In places like that, you weren't considered a person anymore. "Okay." 

Mrs Hughes wasted no time in exiting, likely afraid he would change his mind. As the door closed behind her, Thomas turned to face Mr Bates, the man's expression intimidatingly neutral once more. "Come on then," the valet ordered, holding his hand out expectantly. 

Thomas slid off his jacket and passed it over, waiting for the other to inspect it. He couldn't look, pretended he was elsewhere. He heard a light thud as Mr Bates tossed the jacket onto Thomas' bed. 

"Next." 

He handed over his waistcoat, shoes, socks, shirt and tie in quick succession, his trembling growing increasingly worse. 

"Next." 

Thomas clamped his eyes shut, keeping them so as he pulled his damp vest off, his skin sticky with sweat. 

"Next." 

Thomas brought his fingers to the clasp of his trousers, braces already hanging down. He froze. 

"Come on. Or do you need a hand," Mr Bates sneered. 

Thomas took a stumbling step backwards. "D-don't touch me," he stuttered, eyes beginning to sting now. "I just need a moment. Please." He could feel the panic rising, the urge to gag, to runaway, impossible to ignore. Why did he feel like that? So afraid of the sight of his own body, of what others might think of it, what they might do. He didn't want this. 

"Barrow-" 

"Here!" Thomas wrenched open the fastenings and tore both trousers and underwear from his body, practically throwing them at Mr Bates. Face hidden in his hands, he forced himself to focus on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Anything but the pounding chaos in his head. Anything but the memories of firm hands pressing painfully into his body the last time he was like this with another. 

"Nothing here. I'll let Mrs Hughes know you're clean and you can get... Barrow, are you well?" 

It was at that moment when the tears finally broke through the tight squeeze of his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. Sobbing, he sank to his knees, curling in on himself. He wrapped his arms across his torso, fingernails digging painfully into his skin. "I thought about it. Hurting myself," Thomas confessed, soft as a whisper. "Haven't worked up the courage yet. Please, Bates." Thomas peered up, finding the valet wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "Don't let them take me away, lock me up in an asylum. I'll kill myself then, I swear it. I'd rather die than be committed." He dropped his head again. 

Thomas jerked as the familiar soft fabric of his blanket was draped over him. He desperately tugged the ends around himself, clinging to it as he listened to the sound of his desk chair being dragged across the floor. Mr Bates positioned it no more than a couple of feet from Thomas' huddled body and dropped onto it. 

"Barrow. Thomas. No one's going to send you away. But you can't think like that. You can't hurt yourself." Mr Bates spoke sternly. "You're too highly valued in this house." 

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would you of all people say that?" Thomas looked up warily. 

"Because I'm not blind. I see the change in you, both since what happened to you, which wasn't hard to figure out, and more recently. Anna seems to think you're a good person and she's a better judge than I am. Don't let this beat you," Mr Bates implored. Thomas found himself hanging on every word the other said, never in his wildest dreams expecting to hear them from Mr Bates of all men. He didn't think he had ever heard the man say so much in one go. "You're better than that Lord, better than whoever it was that wrote the accusation this morning and you know it. You know what you need to do?" 

Thomas shook his head. 

"You need to ask yourself what you want." 

"I..." He chewed on his lip, wiping tear streaks away with the back of his hand. "I want people to see me. Not what they expect or presume they'll see. Just me. That's what Jimmy said." 

"Good to know he's not just full of rubbish. Mrs Hughes!" Mr Bates called out. 

The door swung open immediately. "Did you f-. Goodness, what’s happened here? Thomas." Mrs Hughes spoke his name with such earnest concern, Thomas felt a sense of warmth growing in the frigid panic locking his body in place. 

Mr Bates rose, cane in hand. "There was nothing on him, Mrs Hughes. Somebody has clearly made a target of Mr Barrow." 

She frowned. "I had expected as much but we had no choice. Do you know who might have done this?" She directed the question to Thomas. "You have been keeping your head down but-" 

"Yes." Thomas didn't hesitate, nothing left to lose. What else could Edna do to him? "I was the one who left the first note about Edna," he confessed. "I overheard her making a phone call where she said what she was going to do to Mr Branson. I couldn't let her threaten the family like that. I think she saw me sliding the note under your door." 

Mrs Hughes seemed absolutely furious. "This is the last straw. The second Mr Carson is back, he, Edna and I will be having a long discussion. I cannot allow a woman like that to be in this household. I must speak with her ladyship at once. Thank you for your assistance, Mr Bates. Thomas, you will of course have the day to yourself until the evening meal. Is there anything you want? Anything at all," she persisted when he shook his head. 

He knew he shouldn't say it, but there was only one thing he needed. 

"Could you spare Jimmy for a little while?" He asked nervously. 

There was a pause and Thomas was a second away from saying he was joking. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'll have James sent straight up," Mrs Hughes spoke briskly, following Mr Bates out and shutting the door behind her. 

Thomas let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He gave himself a moment, enjoying the silence of his room, then hauled himself to his feet, grimacing as his joints cracked. He flung the discarded livery from his bed, the evening set waiting for him in his wardrobe, and dropped onto the mattress. His pillow had never felt so soft. Exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him and he could feel himself drifting off until he heard a hesitant knock. He half-opened his eyes, a sense of relief filling him when Jimmy stepped into the room. 

"Mrs Hughes said to come-. Thomas, what the...?" Jimmy closed the door and rushed over to Thomas' bed. "Are you naked? Tell me what's going on," he demanded. 

Thomas just shook his head. "Later," he promised. "Lie down? I...I need you to hold me." 

Jimmy wasted no time in toeing off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket, settling himself on his back in Thomas' bed. "Come here," he urged, positioning Thomas half-draped across him. He laced the fingers of one hand with Thomas', twining and untwining their digits. "Better?" 

Thomas closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythmic thud of Jimmy's heartbeat. "Much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please do let me know if you spot any errors. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	6. Show Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took nine months!

Jimmy watched as Thomas opened his eyes, the under-butler squirming against the body beneath him as he woke. He had only just woken up himself, light though his sleep had been as he tried to soothe Thomas who seemed particularly agitated, and had spent the last little while enjoying the rare look of peace on the other's face. He reached out to recapture Thomas's hand which had escaped his as they slept, drawing it to his lips to press a kiss to it. It was the most embarrassingly romantic thing he had ever done, to be sure, but he had found himself lost in the moment. In the way the afternoon sun filtered through the window into their quiet space, the way Thomas looked as a blush coloured his pale cheeks. 

"What was that for?" Thomas whispered, also hesitant to break the peace of the moment. 

Jimmy shrugged as best he could with Thomas still half on top of him. "Nothing, I just..." He swallowed nervously. "I thought you looked rather beautiful, is all." He met Thomas' eyes to gauge his reaction and was gratified to feel the pleasure emanating from him even if tinged with nervousness. 

Thomas chuckled and glanced down at their entwined hands. "Soft sod." 

Much as Jimmy was enjoying the moment, as he often found he did when lying beside Thomas, he had to know what had happened to leave the other in such a way. It wouldn't be for no good reason that Mrs Hughes let them both miss the majority of the work day. If someone had hurt Thomas, as he expected they must have, there would be hell to pay. 

"Thomas, what's going on? I need you to tell me why I found you like this." Jimmy spoke calmly, watching Thomas carefully for any sign of distress. 

Thomas grimaced, a frown creasing his brow. "I overthrew a scheme in another attempt to be in the good graces of the household and might have bitten off a bit more than I could chew. You see, I overheard Edna on the phone a couple nights ago discussing her plan to... get in the family way with Tom. I couldn't just leave it, could I?" 

"Couldn't you?" Jimmy couldn't help but huff in exasperation. He was both surprised and not by Edna. She was a little like himself, dreaming of a better life while being surrounded by those day in and day out who had that life. It could make you do reckless things just to get a taste. That was what had often guided his own actions with Lady Anstruther. But Edna had a more permanent plan in mind, turning what could be a scandal into a victory. Edna was admittedly attractive if you ignored the sour expression and Jimmy had seen enough of Tom to know that the man wouldn't abandon a woman carrying his child. "So, what did you do?" 

"Left a note for Mrs Hughes but Edna caught me as I was sliding it under the door. I tried to pass it off but deep down I knew she would know it was me who ratted on her as soon as Mrs Hughes defused the whole thing. I knew she would retaliate and, by God, she didn't disappoint. Could give O'Brien a run for her money, that one." The last remark had clearly been an attempt at a joke but Thomas sounded far too glum to pull it off. 

Jimmy squeezed Thomas' hand. "What did she do that left you like this? Put me out of my misery." He tried for his own joke yet feared he fell as flat as Thomas. 

Thomas turned onto his side and adjusted the blanket securely around himself, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Jimmy turned to face him. "She left her own little anonymous note accusing me of having a knife of some sort which I was currently or intended to use to hurt myself. Mrs Hughes had to investigate it." 

Jimmy felt a chill run through him and half a dozen knots twisting his stomach. "That's a load of rot. Isn't it?" It had to be. He shouldn't even be considering any possibility of their being any truth to the accusation, but he had wondered... The knots tightened as Thomas dropped his gaze. "Thomas, please," Jimmy all but begged. 

"I thought about it, quite seriously at times, but I never could. Lord, I never wanted you to know this. It's pathetic." He hid his face in the hand not trapped in Jimmy's death grip. "It all just gets a bit too much sometimes." 

Jimmy took a steady breath. He told himself he should be more grateful than terrified that Thomas shared that with him but wasn't sure he'd done a good job of convincing himself. "If you ever feel like that again, come find me, whatever the time." He could tell that Thomas didn't want to discuss the subject further however, Jimmy couldn't go on without saying that. Thomas was too important. Jimmy pressed a kiss to Thomas' forehead once the other gave him a sharp nod. 

"They – Mrs Hughes and Mr Bates, on account of Mr Carson being away – searched my room," Thomas continued, unveiling his face. "Of course, they didn't find anything so they had to check me. Rather stupidly, I thought it would be over my clothes but, as you can see, I was wrong. Mrs Hughes left Mr Bates to it and it was humiliating. I might have panicked a little," Thomas confessed. 

Jimmy had come to that conclusion himself when he had arrived and first looked at Thomas' pink and puffy eyes. There was no way being forced to strip wouldn't be traumatic despite the differing circumstances. 

"Edna's going to be reprimanded by Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson so I suppose I can count this one as a victory." 

Jimmy grunted. Personally, he didn't agree. Nothing was worth Thomas being hurt, especially not Tom Branson. "Are you going to be alright?" 

"Probably," Thomas sighed. "The whole thing's made me think again about something that's been bothering me for a little while. My body." 

Jimmy arched an eyebrow. "Your body is fine. _More_ than fine," he leered jokingly, hoping to lift the mood a little and earned himself a huff of amusement from the other man. 

"Shush, you. I'm trying to be serious." Thomas poked Jimmy in the chest. "The way I and others see my body has changed and I don't feel as though I am in control anymore. I feel..." He trailed off as he searched for the right word. "Trapped by how I am perceived. As a victim, I am shamed by my attacker and those who pity me. Do you understand?" 

As Thomas stared earnestly at him, Jimmy found himself nodding. He had been used for his body on many an occasion and it often left him doubting if he had more to offer than being something pretty to look at. 

"I hate feeling like my body, my nakedness, is a weakness," Thomas confessed. "I used to use it as a weapon when I was younger and now it's become this awful wound. That's not what I want." 

"Well, what do you want it to be?" 

"A... a gift? Something precious. Not because I think I'm in anyway attractive anymore, obviously, but because someone will appreciate it. Me." Thomas ducked his head. 

Jimmy immediately drew it up, pressing their lips together. "You are incredibly attractive. Incredibly precious. Blimey, I never said anything half as mushy until you." He stole another kiss. "Worth it, though." 

Thomas smiled. "You're a good man, Jimmy, and I like who I am with you. I want to give myself to you, for there to be no barriers. I think you want that too." He made to lower his blanket, not having made much progress when Jimmy halted him with a light grip on his forearm. 

"Now?" Jimmy gaped at Thomas. "After what happened this morning? You're absolutely sure?" 

Thomas nodded. "I need to be brave." 

"You need to not be forcing yourself," Jimmy corrected. "Especially not for my sake. I told you I'll be patient." 

Thomas grimaced. "I know, and I appreciate it. But I want this - to at least try! Maybe it's too soon," Thomas acknowledged. "yet maybe now is the perfect moment. We won't find out without trying." 

Jimmy tried in vain to quell the excitement hammering through him, knowing he could hurt Thomas if it ended in disappointment. "What do you want me to do?" 

Thomas twisted around and grabbed a battered pocket watch off his bedside table. "It's a quarter to two." He discarded the watch back on the table. "They've already let you miss the luncheon service so we have a little time. Lock the door." 

Jimmy slipped from the bed and snatched up Thomas' desk chair, jamming it under the door knob. He made to return to the warmth of the bed but paused as Thomas held up a hand to stop him. 

"Would you..." Thomas bit his lip nervously. "Take off some of your clothes?" 

Jimmy's fingers immediately began working on the buttons of his waistcoat. "How much?" Any boundaries and limitations needed to be established early on. He knew that. 

"As much as you like." Thomas left it up to him. 

Jimmy lay the waistcoat over the bare space of Thomas' desk, careful to avoid creases. "...everything?" Bowtie tossed on top, Jimmy focused on the fiddly buttons of his shirt, braces hanging down his legs. 

"If you like." 

He could feel Thomas' eyes on him as he stripped down eagerly, excited for the chance to touch and be touched by Thomas, even if only for a moment. Naked, he clambered back onto the narrow bed, the miniscule space between he and Thomas now feeling smaller still with only a blanket between them. 

Thomas draped an arm over Jimmy's waist and drew them closer together, kissing him heatedly. He felt a pulse of electricity run through him as he finally had this perfect man in his arms again. When was he going to wake up? What would he do without this? 

"Shh..." Jimmy pressed a finger to Thomas' lips. "Bet I could hear you thinking from a mile away. Are you afraid?" 

Thomas snorted. "I've got you in my bed – which, by the way, Mrs Hughes essentially knows about – in the middle of the day. I'd be worried if I wasn't afraid." He shivered as Jimmy laid his palm flush to Thomas' chest. 

"She doesn't know everything," Jimmy whispered, lips so close they brushed against Thomas'. "She doesn't know how I'm going to touch you." Thomas' breath hitched as Jimmy dragged his hand down his abdomen. "She doesn't know how I want you to touch me." He reached behind for the arm Thomas had curled around his waist and laced their fingers together, moulding them to his arse cheek. "And Lord knows I love when you touch me here." 

Thomas honest to God whimpered as Jimmy attacked his mouth. His cock was throbbing and he tentatively rocked his hips against Jimmy's, disappointed to find the blanket dulling the effect. He needed more. Had to have it. 

"Jimmy, I need..." 

"I know." Jimmy gripped the top of the blanket and began to pull it away, kissing Thomas to distraction. "Tell me to stop." 

"I-I can't." He squeezed his eyes shut tight, Jimmy's lips his anchor of calmness as he was made bare once more. 

Jimmy avoided Thomas' blind search for more kisses, pausing with the blanket. "Thomas, talk to me." 

Thomas shook his head, burying his face in the crook of Jimmy's neck, desperate to keep a handle on his increasingly rapid breaths. He felt the warmth of the blanket returning. 

"I don't think-" 

"Just do it!" Thomas snapped. "Do it, do it, do it. This is the only way. I'll never..." _I'll never forgive myself if I don't let you have this._

But he could feel Jimmy's head shaking, could tell that he was pulling away, leaving him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! 

"You're not ready." Jimmy spoke softly, so carefully to make sure Thomas didn't think he was mad. 

Well, Thomas barely cared enough to notice, too angry with himself. He tried to clutch at the other as he made to stand to no avail, his arms and bed bereft of Jimmy. He opened his eyes and spotted him reaching for his underwear. On an impulse, Thomas leapt from the bed, clutching the damnable blanket around himself. "Jimmy, wait." 

Jimmy turned with an understanding smile Thomas didn't want. "It's okay-" 

"No, it's not okay!" Thomas roared. "I'm going to have this. I know I'm ready, I just need to make the move. This," Thomas jabbed himself hard in the chest, noticing the noise of distress Jimmy let slip as he stared at Thomas with wide eyes. "Is mine and I'll be damned if some Lord is going to stop me from doing what I want." He had stopped shouting but his tone was no less emotional. "It's decided. It's yours." 

Jimmy bit his lip nervously. "I don't think it works that way," he tried to reason. "It can't be as simple as you saying I can have something that you're clearly not ready to give. I won't force you, Thomas. Don't make me that person." He wrapped his arms around himself. 

Thomas was perilously close to stamping his foot like a child. "But I do want you." To hell with what he had said earlier – it would end now. "I can't give you everything - _he_ still holds parts – but I can't stand hiding from you like this. I won't have this conversation again, Jimmy. I won't." He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, relieved that they weren't burning with tears. "You're going to look at me. If you walk away well, fine, I'll understand. I'm not crazy." 

For all that, he got a tentative nod. "I know that." Jimmy stepped forward hesitantly and drew him into a too brief kiss. "You're really not going to stop, are you?" 

Thomas shook his head. 

"Alright." Jimmy held his gaze. "You know your own mind and I trust you." He clambered back onto the bed, resting on his side with his head propped up on his hand. "Show me." 

Thomas flushed at the sight of the other displaying himself like that, his cock stirring once more, having given up during his tirade. He positioned himself before Jimmy, took a deep, steady breath and dropped the blanket. He watched Jimmy's face carefully, nervous for his reaction. 

Jimmy grinned, eyes sparkling as he held out an outstretched hand to Thomas. "Like I said before – beautiful." 

Thomas let himself be tugged to the bed and swiftly found himself held flush to his...lover? Yes, he supposed that was right. And his lover was taking excellent advantage, grinding their erections together, sliding a hand between them, as he all but fused his lips to Thomas'. And Thomas was okay. More than okay. Mostly. The ghosts of bruising fingers weren't far away as Jimmy grasped his body, the vulnerability of being bare making him want to run, but Jimmy was here and now and everything. His everything. 

They came hard, clutching and panting. He hadn't had that since their first – and only – time and, as they curled into each other, sticky mess near enough forgotten, Thomas noticed a little of the pressure he constantly felt on him ease off. 

"I love the noises you make." Jimmy buried a hand in Thomas' hair, drawing their foreheads together. "Let's me hear how much you want me. Next time I'll take it real slow, treat you right, touch you all over." 

Thomas wished he had a lifetime to spend listening to all the sweet things Jimmy had been telling him lately. He'd never anticipated that side of him, not in any of his fantasies. "I wish we could stay like this but we can't." Unfortunately, they had to work. Thomas sat up yet found himself unable to go further without one more kiss which Jimmy eagerly gave him. He finally stood and made his way to the wardrobe, pulling out his evening livery. He had already missed most of the day when he should be overseeing everyone else in Mr Carson's absence. Edna and her schemes could rot before he would miss the dinner service. He wiped himself down with a washcloth, using the bowl of water he had neglected that morning, having overslept, and tossed another at Jimmy. 

Neither he nor Jimmy made any attempt at pretending they weren't watching each other as they pulled on their uniforms. "It's funny," Thomas mused. "I've just had you in my arms, I know what every inch of you feels like, but I can't look away." 

Jimmy gave him a cocky grin, posing in a comically alluring way as he put on his trousers. "People have told me I'm addictive. And a disrespectful snot, actually, but I prefer the first one." He winked for good measure. 

"You are a disrespectful snot," Thomas chuckled as he tugged his waistcoat down flat. 

"Ah, but you keep coming back so I must be addictive too," Jimmy reasoned distractedly, huffing in annoyance as his bowtie refused to knot properly. 

Thomas swatted the other's hands away and re-tied it himself. "Never doubted that for a second." 

Jimmy kissed him softly. "You sound better. I'm glad." 

"You put my mind at ease, even if I'm doing something that scares me." Thomas caressed Jimmy's cheek with his thumb. 

"It's my magic pri-hey!" Jimmy yelled in mock outrage as Thomas shoved him back, scowling and trying not to laugh himself. 

He snatched up his comb and began raking it through his hair, tossing a spare he had not coated in pomade at Jimmy, aiming for his head. "Is this how it is when you're not being sweet? Mouth of a tramp, you." He arched his eyebrow. 

Jimmy's grin grew wider still. "You love my mouth. I've missed joking with you like this." He returned the comb and reached for his jacket. "We should go out for a drink tomorrow." 

Thomas found himself nodding. That would be nice and he ought to take advantage of being in a good mood, of feeling like himself, for as long as he could. One never knew when melancholy would next strike. He brushed off imaginary dust from Jimmy's shoulders and leant in to brush a kiss to his cheek. "Perfect." 

"Is that Mr Barrow talking or Thomas?" Jimmy teased. 

Thomas did his best impression of Mr Carson, ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back as he peered down his nose at Jimmy with an air of distaste. "Service cannot afford to suffer through negligence, James," he drawled. 

"You almost got it," Jimmy laughed. "The actual Mr Carson would have said it 'cannot afford to suffer through _your_ negligence, James.' He'd hate to miss an opportunity to tell me where I'm failing." 

Thomas' witty response was cut off by three sharp knocks to the door. "Just a moment!" He called out as he removed the chair wedged under the door handle as quietly as possible and returned it to its proper place. He gestured for Jimmy to open the door. 

Mrs Hughes all but surged into the small room, anxiously giving Thomas a visual once over. She gave him a nod of satisfaction, though at what Thomas couldn't guess. "You look much improved, Mr Barrow. I feel I must apologise again for this morning but I am afraid my hands were tied, you understand." 

"It's nothing," he waved it off, choosing to ignore the looks of disbelief both Mrs Hughes and Jimmy were directing at him. "There's nothing to be done about it now so I'd rather just get back to work." He had barely lifted his foot to make his escape, gesturing for them to follow, when Mrs Hughes clasped his outstretched hand between her own, freezing him. 

"If you think nothing will be done, you are sorely mistaken Thomas Barrow," she snapped. "If there is one thing I cannot stomach, it is disrespect." Thomas knew that all too well from his own scheming days. "And neither Mr Carson nor I will allow that wom-James!" She finally acknowledged the other, tutting at him impatiently. "Do you not think you might make yourself useful downstairs?" 

"Yes, Mrs Hughes," Jimmy heard the suggestion as the command it was, leaving Thomas behind with a wink over Mrs Hughes' shoulder as he made himself scarce. Thomas missed him already. 

Mrs Hughes picked up where she left off. "That woman cannot stay here another moment. She is a threat to the family and the staff. There are women of the night with more morals than Miss Braithwaite." She squeezed the hand still trapped between her own. "But these things have to be handled delicately. Mr Carson insists that we form a plan in advance, and I am in full agreement, so you are to dine in my office tonight where Mr Carson will meet us. He's on the evening train." 

Thomas wasn't sure where to start, not used to finding himself plotting for 'justice' if he could call it that, so went for the more humorous approach. After all, he was determined to cling onto his good mood for as long as possible. "Who will head our table? The Bateses?" His lips quirked in amusement as Mrs Hughes nodded. "Mr Carson might faint at the sight of such irregularity." 

Mrs Hughes shot him a fond look of exasperation. "The table – and Mr Carson – will survive one night." 

\--- 

Jimmy took a hasty step back as Edna stormed down the corridor, fury and outrage twisting her face. He sipped his tea, hiding a grin behind the cup as he looked one way where Edna had just reached the staircase and the other to see Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes and Thomas stood together watching her leave. They made quite a formidable unit like that, to be sure. Jimmy certainly wouldn't want even a telling off – never mind a dismissal! - from the three of them in one go. No, thank you. He retreated back the way he come before he could be spotted, returning to the kitchen to bother Daisy and Ivy a moment longer, not overly fancying being tasked to polish with Alfred or serve tea just that second. 

Mrs Patmore looked up from the aged recipe books she had spread across the central table and huffed in exasperation as Jimmy skulked back into the kitchen. 

"Back to disrupt my kitchen again, are you?" She pointed a finger accusingly at him. "Just because it looks quiet doesn't mean there isn't plenty to be done - as you well know!" 

Jimmy just grinned, the cook's near daily complaints to him now familiar, friendly banter to him. He swirled the remaining dregs of tea around his cup and downed it. "Just finishing my tea, Mrs Patmore. I would hate Ivy's hard work in brewing the pot to go to waste." He made a show of graciously thanking a passing young kitchen maid who relieved him of his empty cup and didn't fail to notice Mrs Patmore roll her eyes. 

"Don't you have any work to do?" She huffed. 

"He does indeed." 

Jimmy nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun round to see Thomas stood right behind him, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, Mr Barrow!" He scowled and clutched dramatically at his chest. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Standing around can be dangerous. Mr Carson wants you and Alfred on last night's silverware." He stepped out onto the corridor and Jimmy followed close behind. "If you get it done quickly, there might be a reward." 

"Oh?" They paused at the bottom of the stairs. 

Thomas nodded. "If you get your lot done before Alfred, I'll take you with me on an errand. There are several packages waiting in Thirsk again as well as today's post that never made it to the village office. Broken wagon wheel, apparently." 

Jimmy was more than aware of the issue with the post, having been sent out once already today by Mr Carson with the threat to not even contemplate returning without the morning papers for his lordship. He had had to sprint to the village and back again to make it in time for the breakfast service. The papers had only just arrived when he got there, brought in on a borrowed wagon as a priority. "Why is Mr Carson sending you instead of me and Alfred?" 

"He'll want me out of his office so he can double and triple check the inventory and accounts entries I made the other day, of course. So, will I be escorting Alfred or you?" 

"It'll be a surprise." Jimmy reached out and squeezed Thomas' arm. "How did it go with Edna? I saw her go past a few minutes ago." 

Thomas grimaced. "She wouldn't go down without a fight, I'll give her that, but she's gone. She'll get a good reference with the understanding that she doesn't attempt to take up a position within Yorkshire. Mrs Hughes suggested she try India or Australia." 

Jimmy more than liked the sound of that. "The further the better. There's enough going on around here without someone like her stirring things up. What about her replacement?" 

"Mrs Hughes will put an advertisement out and, in the meantime, Anna will be doing double duty." Thomas stepped back hastily as a pair of maids thundered down the stairs, piles of laundry swaying precariously in their baskets. "Alfred can have the notice put up in the post office when he collects today's mail." 

Jimmy scoffed in disbelief and folded his arms. "Alfred? What's that supposed to mean? You said whoever finished first." 

Thomas smirked. "And you're here talking to me. What do you think Alfred's doing?" 

\--- 

Thomas pushed Jimmy against a tree, lips seeking his out, hand sliding down his chest, pressing against him. 

"Mind my jacket on the bark, would you?" Jimmy nipped at Thomas' lip. 

"I wish you'd take it off." Thomas gripped his lapels and spun them around, resting his own back on the tree. 

Jimmy couldn't help but laugh as he leaned into the other. "It was only yesterday that we were..." He trailed off, ducking his head with a little embarrassment at the memory of Thomas against him, at what else he might want. "Together." 

"That's not enough." Thomas lifted Jimmy's chin and stole another kiss. "I could kiss you all day." Another. "Touch you." And again. "Have you." 

A shiver ran down his spine. "Do you want that? To have me?" He pressed more firmly against Thomas, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling. 

"I've never stopped wanting it. But not yet. Soon, maybe." He held Jimmy tightly around the waist. "I don't think I can wait much longer." 

"Don't think it works like that." 

"Don't care." 

" _Thomas_." His protest came out as more of a groan as Thomas nibbled at his ear. 

"Shh." 

Jimmy caught Thomas' face and kissed him hard, desperate to convey just how much he wanted the man. There wasn't another man living that could make Jimmy want to do the things he was thinking of. Well, there wasn't another person living that interested him on every level like Thomas. "We should go, right?" 

Thomas hummed noncommittally, lips glancing against Jimmy's. "We could stay here." 

Jimmy snorted, looking around at the wooded area they had delved into, a few feet from the path that would lead them back to the village. "Really? I care for you a lot, Thomas, but we both know we like our creature comforts too much." The soft smile Thomas gave him sent a wave of warmth through him. "What was that for?" 

Thomas shrugged, pushing Jimmy away gently. "Just because. Come on." He strode through the trees, leaving Jimmy scrambling to catch up, as if they hadn't just been doing what they were doing. Even when Thomas wasn't at his best, Jimmy couldn't help but aspire to have the level of aloofness Thomas could turn on faster than he could blink. 

"Jesus, wait up, will you!" 

He barely remembered to snag the handle of the empty cart as he chased after Thomas. 

It didn't take long for them to arrive into town and, considering it was mid-afternoon, it was mainly women wandering around with their baskets and a handful of tradesmen going to and from their next job. 

"Right." Thomas paused just outside the primary tailoring shop. "Give me the cart and I'll collect the orders for the family from here and the hat maker. You take this list and go to McFarrow's for Mrs Patmore then straight to the post office." He handed Jimmy a square of paper stained at the corner with some sort of brown sauce and took the cart handle. "Oh, you'll need these too." He dug into his trouser pocket and withdrew a fistful of coins, pressing them into Jimmy's hand. 

He scanned the list as he dropped the coints into his own pocket. "Beef? Don't we get that delivered or did that go wrong too?" Mrs Patmore had scribbled down an order for several cuts of beef and lamb. "Are you sure I don't need the cart?" 

Thomas shook his head and bent down to retrieve a string back from the cart. "No, this should do. Last minute menu change. Tell me you needed the cart more when we meet up and you see how many boxes I've got in there. Her ladyship warned me there would be a fair bit due to the upcoming London trip." Thomas rolled his eyes and pressed the bag into Jimmy's hand. 

"London?" Jimmy perked up. It was always a hassle getting everything ready for a trip like that but once you were there... Jimmy had always loved London. 

"I'll tell you later if you can keep your mouth shut about it." Thomas waved him away and stepped into the tailor's. 

Jimmy huffed but wasted no time in walking to the butcher's. The quicker he could get that sorted, the quicker he could get to the post office and then he might get a few minutes with a decent magazine before Thomas caught up with him. Fortunately, he arrived just as the last customer was leaving, a middle-aged woman with her arms piled with wrapped parcels. He held the door for her and gave what he thought as his most charming smile, causing the woman to flush as she waddled past, bobbing her head in thanks. It was good to know the smile still worked. It had always made Thomas laugh when he'd tried it on him, although he hadn't tried it recently. 

"You from the big house?" The butcher's gruff voice drew him out of his thoughts as he walked to the counter. 

"Yes," Jimmy replied politely, assuming the man meant Downton. "If I could get these, please." He handed over the list and watched the man weigh and prepare the order, passing over the coins and thanking him as he dropped the parcels into the string bag. As he stepped out of the shop, he noticed there were more than a few pennies left over and he was almost tempted to nip to the tobacconists but the thought of Thomas getting interrogated by Mr Carson stopped that idea dead. 

He turned for the Post Office and joined a queue of three. While he waited his thoughts went, as they almost always did these days, to Thomas. Having their bodies press together like that after what felt like forever. He wanted that all the time - it was addictive. He couldn't think of anything else worth wanting. It was bordering on pathetic, he knew, but Jimmy prided himself on knowing what he wanted and going after it. He'd also always had a liking for beautiful things. 

"Next," the Post Master bellowed. 

Jimmy hastened forward. "I've come from the Abbey for today's delivery, please." 

The man coloured slightly. "Ah, yes sorry about that. Dodgy wagon wheel, you see. Won't be a moment." He disappeared behind the shelves and came back with a stack of letters and several magazines. "Please pass on my apologies to your butler too, lad." 

Jimmy promised he would and thanked the man as he gathered the items into his arms and edged his way around the growing queue and out of the shop. He was reluctant to put them on top of the meat parcels in the string bag. God forbid his lordship's paper arrived with a whiff of raw beef on it. Jimmy rather liked the smell himself. 

He ambled over to an empty bench in the square, the usual meeting point for errands into town, and plonked the bag down on his left and the magazines on his right before sifting through the stack of letters. Two for his lordship, three each for her ladyship and Lady Mary, nothing for Lady Edith although he supposed a couple of the magazines might be hers, and a postcard for Mr Branson which he gave a cursory glance to finishing off the upstairs post. That left a letter for Mrs Hughes, a catalogue of modern kitchenware for Daisy that Mrs Patmore was guaranteed to throw a fit about and, to his surprise, a letter for himself. 

He dropped the rest of the downstairs post on top of the upstairs and studied the envelope. It was a smooth, cream paper and well-made at that. He didn't recognise the handwriting on the front at all. For the life of him, he couldn't even guess at who the sender was. No one wrote to him anymore, not even Lady Anstruther. And an envelope like this. Had a visitor to the Abbey taken a liking to him and was trying to poach him for their own household? No one obvious came to mind. 

He turned the envelope over and peeled it open, drawing out the single sheet of paper which was just as fine quality as the envelope. He unfolded it and skimmed the words, a sinking feeling growing the further he got. Jimmy forced himself to take a shuddering breath as his eyes continued to scan the words rapidly, fingers creasing the paper as he gripped it tightly. He desperately fought the urge to fling it away as he read it over again. 

_Hello my darling,_

_Your beauty has haunted my mind since last we saw one another. It pains me to recall that I left such a jewel untouched, choosing instead the dulled stone. The luscious lines of your body are unlike any I have seen before or since. My hands are itching to grip your arms, your thighs...your throat. My flesh aches to be buried within you, to have you wrapped tight around me, clinging._

_Crying._

_I have found that it is best not to deny oneself these things so I must have you. No, I will have you for I cannot continue in this life without leaving a mark on your skin. I know you think of me too._

_Until we next meet,_

_Your Admirer_

The handwriting wasn't the same, the words were flowery and ridiculous but Jimmy knew exactly who the sender was. It had to be him. There was no other possibility. He could feel bile rising in his throat, ghostly unwanted hands doing what the letter had promised, the words crawling all over him. He couldn't breathe. 

What was he going to do? Who could he tell? He couldn't tell anyone. Not Thomas. Definitely not. He was just starting to really improve, to come back to how he had been before and Jimmy would be damned if he'd be the one to ruin that. 

He stuffed the offending letter into its envelope and shoved it inside his jacket, skin crawling even more where it touched him. He would hide it and forget it. There was nothing Lord Tarnworth could do. Jimmy highly doubted the man would risk coming back to Downton no matter how entitled he obviously was. It was just a letter - it had no power. He wouldn't let it have power. 

Then why was he shaking? 

He focused on his breathing, forcing himself to calm down if only for the sake of Thomas not finding him like that. But thinking about Thomas, for once, didn't help because all he could see was Lord Tarnworth driving inside him and the pain on Thomas' face. He didn't want that. That wouldn't be him! 

He glanced up and saw Thomas ambling towards him, cart stacked high with boxes. He plastered on a smile as he stood and gathered his own things. 

"Jimmy," Thomas greeted. "Everything go alright?" He took the post out of Jimmy's hands and slotted it in a gap between two hat boxes. 

"Yeah, no problems, everything's just fine." Jimmy sounded ridiculous to his own ears so he changed the subject, hoping that Thomas wouldn't notice. "You weren't joking about the parcels." He picked up his own bag and they began to make their way back to Downton. 

"I really wasn't. Lady Mary alone has ordered three new pairs of shoes and I won't even start on the amount of pocket squares in here. You would think the shops were going on strike for a month. It's a wonder it all fit in here. Anything interesting in the post?" 

Save for the thing inside his jacket? Jimmy shrugged. "Nothing interesting except a kitchen catalogue. I think Daisy's trying to give Mrs Patmore a heart attack." 

Thomas hummed in amusement and they continued to chatter on the long walk back. By the time the Abbey came into view Jimmy could say he was at least halfway to being calm. It was just a letter and not worth worrying anyone about. They were untouchable here now. Later that evening, after he destroyed Alfred in a game of poker, he buried the crumpled letter under a stack of old magazines he kept in his bedside drawer and put it firmly out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


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